Tessellations
by Merle's
Summary: College AU - Lauren has dropped out of med school and starts a new degree in Boston. Bo is her charismatic, world renowned social psychology professor. All human, doccubus through and through.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Lost Girl. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: This story has been floating around in my head for quite some time and I've finally gotten around to write it down. Feed back is much appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

I.

Lauren is sitting in the second row when she sees her for the first time.

She'll remember it later, and wonder whether she could have noticed anything then, anything that might have changed the course of events later on. But what's telling is, though, is the fact that she can remember it with so much detail.

September has arrived in Boston at last. Even though the last few days have been fairly sunny, the academic year starts with rain, which urges the students earlier than you'd probably expect into the lecture theatre, even for the first real lecture of the term. It's not a regular class, but directed at all the new students in the department. The buzzing atmosphere in the room fills it with the sparkling excitement that accompanies every first page of new life chapters. Some people are still trying to find a seat, or just generally up and walking around to say hi to friends. While the rain is drumming softly against the high windows everyone seems to be chattering excitedly.

An obnoxious bloke on her right can't stop talking about his basketball scholarship and really, Lauren wouldn't be surprised if he stripped off his shirt and showed his abs to the whole room, while the girl on her left is too occupied by gossiping with her friend to notice how frustratingly irregular the drumming rhythm of her pen on the wooden bench is. The noise level of the lecture theatre is maddening. Lauren throws another look at her watch, frowning. This talk, aimed at giving students a broad overview of what there are going to do for their next few years after all, is going to begin late.

She crosses her arms, leans her head back, and sighs internally.

Dropping out of the first year of med school to major in psychology instead had seemed like such a good idea after what had happened last winter. She really needs this new start from scratch.

Lauren is determined to double her major by adding anthropology. But she feels out of place already, and this will be more than stressful. She had to wade through the backwaters of academic bureaucracy and battled with the Transfer of Credits committee for months, but somehow Lauren found her way through it, and now she is sitting here exactly where she wants to, ready, more or less, for doing her degree at Tufts university. Once more Lauren frowns, and closes her eyes.

She did biology and chemistry already as prerequisites for med school. So she plans to invest that knowledge further into collecting credits for related classes she should consequently not find that hard anymore. And if she does her best she will be able to finish her degree within the next three years at least, if she can persuade the committee to admit her a few more credits in two and a half. If she's honest, Lauren has set her mind on that aim.

Then the door on left side of the lecture hall opens. Lauren's eyes flutter open again as a chubby man with a striped shirt and a full beard enters to walk up to the desk in the middle of the hall. The audience calms down a bit, everyone staring at him with interest, but the students don't stop talking to each other. The man doesn't encourage them either. He doesn't even glance towards the rest of the lecture hall. Instead he starts hacking furiously at the computer keyboard on the table.

Lauren musters him critically, tilting her head to the side. He surely doesn't look like the professor she's expecting. But then, Lauren has always been bad at judging people from their appearance. Not the best premise to study psychology. Maybe that will change now, though.

Her eyes drop once more down to the paper in front of her. Neatly lying next to carefully, according to length arranged pens and a thermos bottle filled with coffee the introductory leaflet stares up to her. It's written by the department for the first years. It's nothing special, just general information on required books and courses and so forth. And the name of the professor she'll be listening to today, if he or she would be kind enough to show up. _Bo Dennis._ Lauren is unsure what Bo short for is, but she thinks that she's heard the name before, either in the press or in relation to a book publication. This prof seems to be a big shot in the department, and was probably mentioned once or twice in the newspaper as one of the fastest rising stars within the academia at the east coast at the moment. Apparently, Dennis' books had quite an impact on the status quo of her field. And Lauren is almost sure that Dennis is a woman.

But Lauren isn't really read up on psychology (yet), and even less informed on who her teachers are going to be, so she sits patiently back and waits. Well, with as much patience as she can muster.

Apparently she isn't the only one wondering where Dennis is. Students one row behind her discuss the same topic enthusiastically. Somehow, it sparks her interest. Sort of. So Lauren concentrates on them and tries to listen. Maybe she can learn something by sheer osmosis.

"I mean have you seen her? It's pretty obvious," a guy says suggestively. "You must have heard the rumours."

Chuckling. Lauren groans internally. She had hoped this would be helpful.

"Rumours?" Someone else asks who, like Lauren, seems to be uninformed on college gossip.

"Well," the first voice drawls out, "she's quite famous, actually." Another pause, filled with more laughter. "Apparently she likes to bang students."

"Really?"

"Mhm. Especially freshmen."

They chuckle again, and the discussion shifts to the pro and cons of student teacher relationships. Lauren loses interest. College rumours are usually pretty inaccurate, but they tend to hint in the general direction of some vague truth. She really doesn't know how to place this information.

But at least she was right, Bo Dennis is a woman.

The people around her carry on to talk about god knows what, when the door flies open again. This time the noise level drops abruptly. Lauren looks up. She gets what the students behind her were talking about.

Unmistakably, Bo Dennis, the university's most cherished psychology professor, spilling charisma with every water drop that falls from her clothes – and so obviously female -, rushes into the lecture theatre, her black coat swirling around her knees and her dark hair glistening wet from the rain, while the line of her jaw is set like marble, and Lauren almost expects autumn leaves dancing around her ankles to come with her through the door. Oh. _Oh._

…

Bo is having an exceptionally bad day.

For once she trusted the college to have a functioning computer to run her presentation on because she didn't want to go through the rain to her office, only to find out that the computer in the lecture hall won't accept her format. So, after meeting Peter from IT, she did double back into the main building to grab her macbook. This means that now she is late and had to walk through the rain twice.

Not to mention the venomous argument she had this morning with the head of the department. Hale is just so pretentious. She'd have wrapped her fingers around his throat if the office desk hadn't been in the way.

Filling leadership roles my ass. The job description had definitely been different. Bo can almost repeat it by heart. The daily work varies but includes teaching and training students and classes, administration, seeing clients (her main income, after all), running psychological groups, providing consultation to colleagues, supervision to other professionals, conducting research, and filling leadership and management roles.

Nowhere, absolutely nowhere, any mentions of crime profiling.

She is not going to participate in that ridiculous campaign of his. Bo is no police officer. Hale can howl as much as he wants to, she will not have those supervisory special agents in her field of duties, nor will she touch any of those profiling files he dropped on her desk this morning. Bo is not letting him draw her into the political mess he's creating at the moment. She has never heard of anything more stupid than attempting to raise money and prestige by creating a behavioural analysis unit at the college. It's definitely his inflated ego talking. The college doesn't even need more money, it's just . Whoever planted that idea in his head deserves a kick in the face. He's not smart enough to think of that on his own.

She teaches psychology because she's good at reading people and helping them figure their life out, especially in terms of relationships. And because it pays incredibly well compared with what she did before. That doesn't mean that she has to put up with everything her boss wants, though.

With those thoughts in her head Bo storms into the lecture hall. She really hast stop being angry at Hale right now. This is the first talk she's giving to her students after all. Her coat is soaking, and Peter still there to fix the problem with the computer even though she explicitly told him not to. So she clenches her teeth and pulls herself together. After shooing him away the IT guy leaves, reluctantly. Apparently had wanted to fix the problem for her, but Bo doesn't care now that she has her macbook. Finally, she starts the lecture.

Even though she hasn't given it often, it flows easily out of her memory. Her voice is calm and her gesticulations at ease. That gives her mind enough time to wander off and to take in the new faces. She's going to see them a lot, better get acquainted now and avoid as much awkward non-recognition moment as possible.

But because of one of those butterfly effect-esque entanglements she skims the middle and back rows, not seeing the blonde huddling in the front, who, after the initial shock, sets to scribble notes intently down on her sheet of paper.

The lecture doesn't take that long and Bo is relieved when she can leave the lecture hall again, to get back to her battle with Hale. She gives the students one last gracious smile and leaves as quickly as she came.

…

Lauren on the other stays for quite a lot of time in that. There are more talks and introductions to attend, and she is keen on getting to know everything she'll need.

She is happy, though, when she can get home that afternoon. It still feels weird to call the student hall home, but it's the place where her bed is now, so she should probably get used to it. Lauren thanks the gods of socialness from the bottom of her heart for having a single bedroom. She has no idea how she got it, but she suspects that her late entry – it had been unsure whether her credits would be transferred – could play an important role. Quite possibly it was just the last room available.

That doesn't protect her, though, from her neighbour.

Kenzi has a single bedroom as well, but she does seem to have a more active part in obtaining it, as far as Lauren can tell. The bright and bubbly girl with the most intense blue eyes Lauren has seen in a very long time immediately makes friends with her. Lauren has no idea why, at first. It feels unmeasurably good, though. She hasn't talked to someone like that for ages.

They sit in her bedroom on the floor, the cardboard boxes with her belongings still not fully unpacked, and chat endlessly.

After 10 minutes Kenzi has her so far to tell that she was studying medicine for a year, which results in Kenzi calling her doc for an unforeseeable amount of the near future. They chat on and Lauren learns that Kenzi does her weird combination of history and entrepreneurial leadership partly because a small scholarship for students with Russian background pays and partly because she tossed a coin. This leads to Lauren's scholarship and study plans.

Two hours later Kenzi declares Lauren her Hermione – never mind the complete lack of overlap between their subjects. Kenzi is profoundly convinced that Lauren will be able to handle it.

Normally Lauren would have been concerned by the looming undertone of Kenzi's work offloaded on to her shoulders. But the girl laughs so freely and Lauren feels so oddly at ease in her presence that they seal their friendship by agreeing to help each other out, although Kenzi complains that she got the worse part of the deal, since she's not so sure whether Lauren's "psycho experiments" will leave her mentally unharmed from what she gathered so far about that department. Lauren just laughs with her.

Misfits bond, that's a fundamental rule both of them have come to internalized.

They go to dinner not much later, and stick to each other while they try to make the best of the freshmen evening in the student hall. Luckily there is not much going on – relatively speaking. The music is blasting, and Kenzi and her spend a lot of time trying to figure out what subject people are doing based on their dancing style. But in the end Lauren retreats to her room early, trying to avoid the alcohol and the drunken people.

After undressing, she thanks the universe for her single room once more, closes her eyes even before she falls into her bed, and finally gets to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thank you so much for your reviews!

Also, I'm not including anything from the 4th season. (And I'm using this to fight the the writer's block I hit after three quarters of the next chapter of my other story (which I will finish. I'm just crap at keeping promises about my writing.))

II

The next week passes fairly quickly. Loads of different events on campus take place and Lauren spends a lot of time figuring out where the closest and cheapest libraries, coffee shops and grocery stores are, where she can do the laundry, and maybe find a gym.

Kenzi looks for bars, mainly.

At the end of the week they compare their results, when Lauren takes Kenzi to the nearest mall and they spend quite some time shopping, and in the evening Kenzi takes Lauren to a bar she found in the second night. Lauren needs a new coat, since autumn is coming faster than expected, and Kenzi is always on the lookout for heels. The older woman finds a nice sand coloured one, about which she's really happy. And the ladies' night out turns out to be better than expected as well. She really enjoys the easy company.

Kenzi tends to sleep long and Lauren gets to shuffle around and do her stuff in the morning until her neighbour can be bothered to roll out of bed. Then she usually knocks at the door, pops her head in Lauren's room and begs for coffee or aspirin or help with her own work. Usually for all three at once.

But Kenzi has a great feeling for when Lauren wants to work as well, so she graciously ceases her teasing when Lauren has her head buried in books. Sadly, they don't meet that often on campus. So this night Lauren has to catch up on what Kenzi has done in her first week at college in a bar over a nice glass of alcoholic beverage.

The place is called the Dal. It's not very far away, just a short walk through the fresh night air, but hard to find if you don't know where to look, and it's definitely not a typically student pub. Lauren likes it instantly. It's small but cosy and warm, and does serve very good ale, as Lauren soon finds out. They sit at the bar, where Kenzi chats for a couple of minutes with the bartender, a nice guy called Trick. Kenzi seems to be friends with him already.

Lauren raises an eyebrow at her when she turns back to her.

"What? Knowing the right people makes the world go round," Kenzi says, smirking. "Besides, I'm hoping on a free drink once in a while."

"I think ninety per cent of the people in this bar are trying to do the same. Trick wouldn't earn any money if he listened to them all."

Kenzi takes a sip. "Maybe. But they're not as good as I am." She grins and turns around to face the rest of the room. It's not that late, and the bar is not that full, but a few people are there nonetheless, either sitting at the tables or standing around, drinking and talking. Soft music is playing from the jukebox.

"Seen anyone exciting yet?" Kenzi asks, scanning the faces of the people present.

Lauren rolls her eyes. "I'm not really here for that."

Kenzi looks at Lauren's glass, which is still almost full. "Well, a bit more effort on your side would be much appreciated, I'm sure."

Lauren laughs.

"How about that guy over there?" Kenzi asks, her blue eyes suddenly glistening mischievously.

Lauren doesn't even turn around. "I don't think so."

"You haven't even looked at him!"

"I don't need to."

"Come one, Doc," Kenzi begs. "We will have enough work next week. Let's just have a little fun today. What do you think about that one? I think he's checking you out."

Again, Lauren doesn't even glance up to who has the luck to have attracted Kenzi's attention now, but gives her a pointed look. "Even if I was interested in hitting on anyone, I don't have to look at a guy to tell you that I'm not interested. I'm past that stage."

Kenzi turns back around to her and raises her eyebrows. Lauren can literally see her brain working. Then the penny drops. "_Oh._ Okay." Kenzi hesitates for a moment and takes another sip from her drink. "I can't believe I haven't picked that up." In the end she just shrugs. "Well, more left for me."

Lauren can't help but grin, and drink from her ale.

"What do you think about that chick over there then?"

"Kenzi, in earnest, not today."

"Maybe later?"

"Seriously, do I speak Chinese?"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Kenzi chuckles, raising her hands defensively.

They end up talking about the pros and cons of different kinds of booze, and Kenzi does manage to get Lauren to drink more than she had planned to. Lauren nearly cries tears of laughter when Kenzi tells a story about her encountering with the dean, of whose existence Kenzi hadn't known until then, but who she's definitely going to remember really good from now on. She begs Lauren to warn her if she sees him so Kenzi can avoid him for the rest of her life.

"We fit together like yin and yang, Doc," she states finally, when Lauren is calm enough again.

The comment earns her a raised eyebrow from the still chuckling blonde. In a way Kenzi is right, though. They are almost the exact opposite of each other in nearly all respects. Their characters are completely different. If Kenzi had trouble with studying for a test Lauren would stay up all night with her, learning and doing revision, while, if the situation was reversed, Kenzi would sneak into the department and simply steal a copy of the examination paper for her instead. But surprisingly, they work together very well.

At eleven Lauren calls it an early night. Kenzi pouts disapprovingly.

"I'm really sorry, but I want to go to the library tomorrow, do some reading," Lauren sighs apologetically.

"For what?"

"The lecture on Monday."

Kenzi rolls her eyes so hard that the guy on her other side gives her a worried look. "The term hasn't even started really, it's Friday, and you're already stressing out."

"Well, I want to be prepared for that one. The prof seems to be really good."

"Who is it?"

"I don't know whether you've heard about her. Bo Dennis?"

Kenzi frowns. "Yes, she has quite a reputation. Not academically."

Lauren thinks of how good looking Bo Dennis is. Lauren had a dry throat throughout the whole last class with her. And that appearance in her position. It's not surprising that gossip accompanies her every step. "Well, academically she's excellent, I think," Lauren says simply. She wants to check her books out the next day as well.

Kenzi shrugs, but finally agrees to go home with Lauren.

…

Bo meets Tamsin Saturday morning for their weekly run in the park. Well, Tamsin's run, really, Bo just joins her for a bit in the middle. She could never keep up with the federal agent if she tried to follow her whole program. That also means that she's still fresh out of bed and more than slightly tired when Tamsin has already run for a couple of miles.

The pace of the Scandinavian blonde changes that quickly, though.

Their track through the park is mostly empty, and Bo enjoys the nature at that time of the day. Soon the leaves will be turning orange and red, if they haven't started already, and it will be too cold to go for a run. Tamsin will do it nonetheless, of course, but Bo will definitely stick to the gym.

Apart from their physical abilities, only regarding running of course, the two women fit very well together. They're both best if fighting on their own, and work in very male dominated jobs. Tamsin compensates by being over-confident and bitchy. Bo loves her dark humour. And both of them get their work done better than average.

Today, their conversation, or at least what Bo is able to mutter while jogging alongside the better trained woman, revolves around the changes Hale wants to introduce this year, with the behavioural analysis unit at the psychology department of the college. Not just Bo would have to work there. It would affect Tamsin's job massively as well, and not to the positive.

"Idiotic politics," she rants while overtaking someone walking his dog, "Hale wants his pretty face all over Boston's newspapers so has better chances at running for senate, like his father did. His daddy issues are the whole reasoning behind the BAU plan. If you ask me, the whole family stinks."

"Nepotism was what got him his current job in the first place," Bo agrees. "He's not particularly good at being the head of the department, and way too young as well."

"You shouldn't say that out loud," Tamsin points out, "you're not exactly very typical to be a professor yourself. Are you sure you're in the right position?"

"You'd be surprised by how often I hear that question," Bo says, already panting. "And by what I hear afterwards."

Tamsin has enough breath left to laugh. Then their path gets a little steep, so Bo has to shut up for the next five minutes. Tamsin can speak, though.

"And of course my partner is completely behind his back. The two idiots are literally glued together," she says. "I still don't get why you stopped banging Dyson. You would have had a good grip on both of them."

That relationship had crashed and burned like a zeppelin on fire. Bo groans by the pure thought of him.

Tamsin is okay with him though, for some strange reason her friend couldn't comprehend. It's probably a police partner thing. Bo never had the time and leisure to try to understand that complex hierarchical relationship system in Tamsin's field. But she guesses that being there to take bullets for each other does tend to create bonds. And Dyson and she are pretty high profile agents.

"How are the new students? Do you have your eye on anyone yet?" Tamsin asks mischievously, changing the subject.

Bo rolls her eyes, but isn't completely sure that Tamsin sees it, since the blonde is way ahead already. So Bo adds decisively, "I don't sleep with students." Maybe she says it a little too loud because right in that moment an elderly couple emerges from another path and look at her very disapprovingly. She clears her throat and gives them the broadest smile she can muster in her current state. It's effective, they look even more appalled.

Tamsin sprints back, smirking, and circles Bo, who slows down more and more. "Rumour has it otherwise."

"It was once! And an accident!" Bo exclaims loudly, startling a bird from the tree next to their running path. Her legs are burning. "I didn't exactly know that he was a student. I mean I didn't even ask him for his name."

That incident had last year had done considerable damage to her reputation. Not that it had been good to begin with, even though she had hoped for a new start in Boston. But that one night had effectively ruined her chances on an easy life. Since then she had to work twice as much to break her colleagues' prejudice, earning her the reputation of being a frigid bitch.

It's just that she doesn't let anyone mess with her, and knows how good she is. That doesn't mean that she can't be kind, though.

Not that she particularly cared about other people's opinion, but those were the people admitting funding, after all. However, Bo had had the luck to write two good books based on studies on human relationships she had conducted at her old uni before coming to Bostin. And they sold very well. She had earned a lot of money out of that, and gained publicity, which eases finding high paid jobs, and especially keeping them. The 'scandal' was brushed under the carpet. For that at least she feels grateful towards Hale.

If she's honest, she is not the cleverest scientist. She's not good with numbers and statistics, which is essential within psychology. Nor is she very patient, or good at setting up experiments.

But Bo is good with people. She can relate very easily, and teach students. She focused on social psychology during her studies, and on how relationships develop over time. That's just what Bo is good at, what excites her, and what she likes to do. Apparently, she managed to get that point across in her books.

And then there's the fact that she is not exactly ugly either. Basically, she likes sex. A lot of it, if she has the opportunity. That's just a fundamental part of her personality.

Tamsin laughs. "You get straight down to business if you like someone, don't you?"

"Essentially, I was drunk. And you weren't there to stop me," Bo shoots back. "I think you were occupied by someone else as well."

Tamsin shrugs and flashes a shit eating grin at her. "Sorry, there were so many, I really can't remember."

Bo rolls her eyes and tries to catch up with her. Tamsin is running ahead again.

"I'm not exactly chaste either, but at least I keep work from pleasure," the blonde teases.

"That's easier said than done in my position," Bo grumbles breathlessly, earning a laugh from Tamsin. "But I'm trying to. I mean I'm not exactly looking for a relationship at the moment," Bo adds, thinking of Dyson again.

Their track takes roughly one hour to get back to Bo's house at the edge of the park. After one hour of running with Tamsin her legs burn like she has poured acid all over them. In front of her porch she bends over and rubs her thighs. Tamsin seems totally unaffected, of course, standing there with her hands on her hips and watching Bo. She hasn't even worked up a sweat, Bo notices enviously. At this point she is hundred per cent sure that her own face is red like a tomato. Tamsin grins at her. "You alright?"

Bo doesn't bother to answer.

They promise to meet again next week, and Tamsin to spend Sunday evening in Bo's grandfather's bar. They'll have to prepare to fight against Hale's and Dyson's plans at work quite soon, so they're going to seize the last possible opportunity to relax a little outside of work. It's very lucky that Trick runs the Dal, so they don't have to worry about where they should go.

Tamsin, looking like someone from a Nike commercial, heads off again, back to her bike with which she'll cycle back to her own flat.

Bo sighs, and lets herself into her own house. She has to prepare the coursework for the following week. It's going to be a long one.

…

On Monday, the psychology freshmen get their first assignment.

Lauren is there early, again in one of the first row, and watches the other students stroll into the lecture theatre. Most of them are anticipating their professor, and discuss her in detail. Especially the male part of the audience. From what Lauren hears it seems like literally all of them want to get to know her better, or preferably her body. Lauren rolls her eyes and rests her chin on her arms, waiting for the class to start.

This time she is better prepared when she enters. At least Lauren thinks she is. But when Bo waltzes in, this time with her hair tied back behind her head, exposing her long neck and the shoulder-blades outlined underneath her blouse, Lauren finds herself staring again. Bo Dennis moves with incredible grace and confidence while prowling up and down in front of them. Her black tights and skirt show off a very well formed pair of legs, and Lauren can't help but travel them with her eyes all the way up.

But that's not everything, by far. Bo's teaching is excellent. She picks the topic apart in front of their eyes and sets it back together again, piece by piece, explaining how the intricate connections holding it together work. Her hands accentuate each point with well measured gestures. And her smile can easily light up the whole room. Sadly, she doesn't do it often, though.

Lauren spends the whole hour trying to concentrate on what Bo is actually saying, instead of the way her lips are moving. They are just so damn distracting.

So she stares down at her notepad instead, clenches her teeth, and just listens to her voice to take her notes, growing more and more determined by the minute to do her best at the first essay.

At the end of the class, Bo gives them their first assignment, deadline on Thursday morning since their next class is on Friday. It's not very fair, really. The question is short, and as non-descriptive as possible. _Discuss the impact modern social psychology had on society._ The topic is more than horrible. Nobody will be able to answer that. Mainly, Bo wants the students to get going, to visit the library, browse, read, and start thinking on their own.

And maybe get them away from the excess of alcohol they're currently taking in every evening, at this time of the term.

The essay shouldn't be that long either, since she doesn't want to correct them over the weekend.

At the end of the lecture quite a few people come down from the ranks to ask her questions about the topic. Well, at least they pretend to. Some do have actually something they'd like to know, and since Lauren doesn't have any she tries to stick around to hear their questions, pretending to take a long time to pack all her stuff back into her bag. They are really interesting in most of the cases and she makes a mental note of everything her prof says about additional reading that would cover them in more depth.

Then there are at least two girls who have definitely just found their new role model. Bo gives them a broad smile, glad that there are women in this year who have genuine interest in a career in the academics. But most of the guys seem to be more interested in Bo's cleavage, and are not even good at hiding it. She brushes their badly planned questions off, mostly by ridiculing the speaker for not paying attention during the class with biting sarcasm, earning quite a few laughs from the rest of the assembled students.

She doesn't give it much thought, really. Bo wants to stay approachable and friendly to all of her students. There is just a natural line of mutual respect they shouldn't cross, and she's quite good at drawing it. She's used to it, after all, and as soon as the freshmen have found it as well they're going to be cool. It has been the same last year. Finally, she leaves through the small side door, but this time Bo glances shortly at the blonde in the second row with the set jawline who has been shuffling the books in her bag for more time than entirely necessary and hides her eyes behind a strain of golden hair.

For a second she muses about her, but then the moment is over and she's through the door.

As soon as she's out of the lecture theatre administration tackles Bo again. Hale is more than ever campaigning for his BAU unit, for which Bo would have to work. As a psychoanalyzing private detective of some sort, she thinks angrily. It would eat massive amounts of her already scarce free time, and throw the rest of her schedule completely off balance. But most of all, Bo doesn't want to work for the state as a criminal profiler. That's not why she became a psychologist.

But sadly, Hale has the last word on this. His decision is definite.

There will be one final meeting on Thursday before he announces whether he'll do it, when everyone in the department can put their doubts forward, and Bo hopes to change his mind at that occasion. She'll have to prepare a lot for that. And she doesn't look forward to it at all.

There was a time when she got along with Hale, quite good actually, but then there came that messy breakup with his best friend, so that's past.

…

In the end Thursday arrives faster than expected.

Bo is sitting in her office, sipping her second cappuccino, and distracts herself from freaking out about the FBI mess Hale is steering right into by finally starting to look at her students essays. They have handed them in this morning. It's not a good way to spend her time, though. If she's honest, they are crap. Mostly. Once in a while she finds a mediocre one. But she grades all of them generously. The question was really hard, and most of her students tried their best at it, so she gives helpful advice and friendly comments.

Before she realizes it two and a half hours have passed, only one essay is left, and she has to go to the department meeting. But Bo dreads it, so she begins to read the last paper as well. And that's a very good decision, as it turns out.

The essay blows her mind.

Completely. It's just brilliant. Way above the level she expects from first years, even way above what some of her third years are capable of. It's meticulous, elaborate and detailed. After a short overview in the beginning the essay gains more depth than Bo is entirely sure the normal library books are not providing. It even gives a concise examination of revelations expected in the future.

And most of all, it's beautifully written. It's exciting. And excited. Bo can almost physically feel the author's elation about the topic, stumbling into this gigantic topic and discovering so many new things while doing research on it in the library. Bo smiles while reading. She sees herself a couple of years ago when she wrote her thesis.

Bo looks at the author's name again. _Lauren Lewis._ She lets the name roll of the tip of her tongue.

She wonders whether she has consciously noticed her in one of the classes yet. She hasn't had them often yet, after all. Bo should really get to know her students faces. She knows that most lecturers don't bother to earn their names as long as they work steadily and keep their head down, but Bo thinks that a friendly atmosphere can provide a better foundation for a welcoming learning environment. She makes a mental note to try to find her in the next class.

Then her phone rings. It's Hale, of course, complaining about her being late for the meeting. Bo groans internally, and rushes off.

…

Lauren dreads the Friday class. When she wakes up in the morning she spends five minutes rubbing her temples and pretending to be too ill to leave the bed. She really doesn't want to go. First, it's because of the assignment she handed in yesterday. Her essay gets more and more crappy each time she rereads it, wildly unorganized with her thoughts all over the place, plus there are at least three facts in it she can't find in the books anymore so they are probably wrong, so all in all she stopped looking at the essay the afternoon before and now she feels grossly underprepared because she hasn't read it at night, and secondly, the lecture is already in one hour.

Not that she's not a morning person, but it's just too early to leave the house at this time of the year.

She gets out of bed, eventually, stumbles out of her room into the shower, and manages to get ready in time, telling herself a hundred times to suck it up. It's not going to be bad. Her whole class has handed in an essay, it's highly unlikely that her prof managed to read them all yet.

When she arrives at the department and gets into the lecture hall, though, her nightmare becomes true. Her prof has managed to read them all. But she can't find her own essay on the table where they have been placed for the students to pick up while they're walking in. It's just not there.

There must have been something wrong in it. Lauren racks her brain to think of what it could have been. Yesterday, she was so sure that everything was fine with it. But since then that conviction left her. Well, it's her piece of work and she's going to stick up for it, even if it was the most horrible one in class.

After looking through them for the third time she finally gathers her courage and walks up to her prof to ask her about it. She doesn't want to at first, though. The Bo Dennis' expression is darkened by a deep wrinkle between her eyebrows. It's still fairly early and she is sitting behind the desk down in the centre of the lecture theatre, flipping through a file, not paying any attention to the first students entering the room. Annoyance is written all over her face. And maybe a hint of tiredness.

Lauren walks down the steps between the seating ranks and approaches her slowly. She doesn't look up, so Lauren clears her throat, wringing her hands.

"Uhm, Professor Dennis? I was just wondering about my essay…" Her voice trails off meekly.

"I've written all my comments in the margin. Everything should be perfectly clear," she replies coldly, clicking her teeth with discontent. She doesn't take her eyes off the file in her hands and turns a page, almost angrily.

"That's the problem. I couldn't find mine?" Lauren replies.

Bo's head snaps up. She blinks. For the first time she really takes the person in front of her in. A lithe, blonde woman, maybe a little bit older than the rest of her year, wearing a sand coloured coat and a simple white shirt that frames her defined collarbones, is standing there, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. Her hair is tied behind the back of her head but a single strand has escaped and defies her attempt to put it behind her ear. She smiles apologetically when their eyes meet.

Bo tilts her head to the side, her expression and voice completely changed. She frowns slightly. "Are you Lauren Lewis?"

"Yes." It almost sounds like a question. Her hazelnut brown eyes flicker back and forth between Bo's. She has no idea why she's standing here, Bo realizes.

Without looking away from her, Bo leans to the side and pulls her essay slowly out of the bag under the table.

"Was there something wrong with it?" Lauren asks when she sees her essay, biting her lip.

Bo smiles, shaking her head. "Absolutely not. On the opposite. It's very good."

Slowly, the confusion in Lauren's eyes vanishes, giving way to gladness. A smile starts tugging at her lips.

Bo can't help but grin back. "That's really everything I wanted to say. You wrote an excellent essay."

Starting with her eyes, on Lauren's face the sun is breaking through the clouds, enlightening her whole expression. "Thank you," she replies breathlessly.

Bo holds her beaming gaze one quiet second longer before extending her hand and giving the essay back to her. She feels like there is something else she wants to say, maybe something to encourage her to write again, or just simply to stay a little bit longer. She's too slow, though. Lauren turns back again, and hurries to a seat in one of the front rows.

While they were exchanging these couple of sentences the lecture theatre has filled up considerably without either of their notice. Bo follows Lauren with her eyes to her seat. Then she stands up and clears her throat. Most of the other students are occupied by reading through the notes she scribbled on their short essays. It takes them a few seconds to calm down enough so Bo can start speaking.

During the lecture her eyes return more than twice back to Lauren, who is not looking back at her, but deeply bent over her notepad, taking notes.


	3. Chapter 3

III

The first thing Bo does after entering her office, even before taking off her blazer, is putting on the kettle and rummaging in the small cupboard for a satchel of the strongest instant coffee she can find. Her office is not the smallest, with the large oak table, the comfy black leather couch and chairs and the abstract art paintings on the wall someone gave her as a present because why not, those are the biggest psychology stereotypes and Bo likes to play with them. Leather bound notebooks about the few patients she has are piled on her desk. So the small cupboard in the corner, wedged between the bookshelf with the expensive Jung collection on the one side and the window on the other looks a little out of place, but she doesn't want to keep her cups, tea and coffee, and emergency cookies in her desk.

Bo frowns slightly while preparing her coffee. She feels sorry for snapping at her student before. She was just asking about her essay, which Bo held back, after all.

The water boils. Bo pours it into her favourite mug on top of the instant powder, the calming smell slowly filling her nose. She stares out of the window while blowing at the coffee, to cool it down. It's a nice day, the students are soaking up as much sun as possible before fall comes, but Bo can't enjoy it. Not at all.

The results of the meeting the day before are still dragging her down. Hale seriously did it. He's going to install a behavioural analysis unit at the college, with Bo as one of the members of the new committee. Sadly, he has the right to do so. And Bo is going to be buried by this.

Sighing deeply, she sits finally down behind her desk and starts the paperwork she has neglected in favour of that dreadful meeting, and her students' essays.

The next weeks are going to be an administrative nightmare until everything is set up and sorted out with the state. And then she has lectures to give, and the three clients on Saturday. Not to mention the looming midterm exams she'll have to write. Sighing, she flips the first file open.

She leaves again two hours later, to give another lecture for the third years. It doesn't take that long, luckily. However, the chances of returning home early fade as soon as she approaches her office again. And she's not happy about what she finds there. The door stands ajar so that the golden letters displaying her name reflect the light falling through a nearby window. She can hear muffled voices coming through the gap. A line appears between her brows.

The first thing she sees when she enters is Dyson, standing at the bookshelf, with his back to the door. His muscular arms are crossed in front of his chest. When Bo comes in to the room he turns around.

Her eyes narrow even more. Without returning his greeting she asks "What are you doing here?"

"We have to talk about BAU," Hale's voice says from her desk. Bo doesn't look at him. That they have come into her office without asking ticks her anger off already.

"The one I'm not going to work for?" Bo asks.

"The one you're going to be the head of. In fact, Dyson has some files for you to look at," Tamsin says.

Bo's head snaps around. Until now she hasn't noticed the blonde woman standing at the far end of her office. Her arms are crossed and her brow furrowed. It's obvious that the three of them have been arguing.

Bo turns around to Hale, who stands behind her desk. "Thanks for informing me."

"We're here to talk to you about this," he says apologetically. "And to hand the files over afterwards."

"You have decided this over my head already?" Bo's voice gets icy. She takes a few strides towards her desk.

"In my opinion you're the best one for the job." Hale's reply is calm and collected, but Bo doesn't fail to catch the warning undertone.

Bo's very close to snapping that she doesn't care about his opinion, but she can restrain herself, for the moment. "I think I've made it very clear how I think about this idea."

"I think I've made it very clear that my decision is firm on this."

"A decision that affects me more than you and should therefore be made by me."

"But doesn't fall into your responsibilities."

"Maybe you shouldn't be responsible in the first place."

"Are you questioning my authority?" Hale hisses through clenched teeth. His nostrils flare.

"No, Hale," Bo leans forward, fuming, putting her hands on the desk between them and making a point by addressing him with his first name. Her eyes are spitting fire. "I'm denying its existence."

"For fuck's sake, Bo!" Hale explodes. "This is not up for discussion."

"Exactly!"

"If you don't cooperate you can pack your things and leave." Hale is close to shouting.

Bo remains unimpressed, though. "I'm not going to work for that unit." She stresses every single work, crossing her arms.

Hale's eyes narrow even more. "I'm warning you, Bo. I'm the head of this department. What I say, goes."

Before Bo can say anything more stupid Dyson steps in. "Everybody calm down. I'm sure there's a solution. What is your problem with ir, anyways?"

"I don't want to get into crime profiling. And I don't want to work for the state. I'm a psychologist, not a police officer. I don't like the methods, I don't like the system." Bo's tone makes it very clear how she thinks of the state and its crime fighting units.

"Why?" Dyson asks. His tone gives away how annoyed he is with the fact that Bo can't go along with the rest, a pattern he has come to know very well.

"Personal reasons," Bo states simply.

"Well, you wouldn't have to, not necessarily," Tamsin throws in, thoughtfully.

"I won't," Bo says again, her voice harsh.

"That's not what I meant." While Tamsin's eyes are fixed on Hale, Bo's eyebrows rise. She tilts her head to the side. "How about we make you a consultant?"

Hale's expression, furious for a couple of seconds more, changes visibly. It softens. "I don't know whether that's possible," he reflects.

But he's definitely considering it. Bo can tell that much from his face. It's a very good sign. Bo wouldn't want to get into more trouble than she already is in. And she's straining Hale's temper more than it's entirely reasonable.

Dyson is frowning as well. "We could come to you whenever we have a case that needs supervision from someone with psychology experience. You'd recommend actions, but officially we wouldn't be working in the same unit."

"We would still have a profiling unit at the college, we would incorporate it into the curriculum and offer research possibilities to postgrads, and you'd take the chair of the board, but I would still be affiliated with the university rather than the state," Bo spins the thought further. "Come on, Hale, that sounds like a good idea."

"I'm not so sure about that," he replies. "I'd rather have you working for the unit, and secondarily as a professor."

"Just give it a try. Let's say six months. And then we talk again about it."

Hale throws his hands up. "Fine!"

A huge weight drops from Bo's shoulders.

"But don't mess this up, Bo. One step out of line and I'll be looking for a new social psychology prof."

Bo smiles. "Understood." Tamsin's idea is brilliant. With one swoop she has solved the mess Bo and Hale have manoeuvred themselves into. No one loses their face, and everyone gets what they want, more or less. She feels really grateful towards her friend.

"Just try to get along with my boss," Tamsin smirks. "Evony won't be pleased by this, at all. And you know her reputation."

Before Bo can ask Tamsin how the first name basis with her boss came about, Dyson throws in, grinning: "You will meet her quite soon, actually. There will be a dinner in celebration of the new unit. Black tie."

Bo can't help but groan. Tamsin and Dyson laugh. The aggressive atmosphere vanishes at once. Even Hale has to smile. "I'm sorry, it can't be helped. I'll buy you a round, though, if we get through this unharmed."

"Thanks, Hale," Bo says. She still holds a grudge, but at the moment she doesn't want to piss off her boss even more than she already has.

Dyson claps his hands. "Okay, then things are finally sorted out. In a way. We'll get back to you as soon as we have figured out whether Bo can actually have her special status."

Bo lifts her eyebrows. He smiles back.

"Alright," Hale says, happy that he doesn't have to battle with Bo anymore. "I'll look into it too. But I'm sure we'll manage it. I can give no guarantees."

Dyson and Tamsin step to the door to leave again. Hale follows them, completely his old self again, joking with Dyson. No signs of the threats left in him. Bo really doesn't know whether he was serious about throwing her out.

"Wow. You get to stay unaligned," Tamsin says dryly and winks, while walking out.

…

The next two weeks flicker past faster than Lauren has the chance to realize. Routine settles in. She internalizes her schedule – and Kenzi's as well, since she complains so often about it – and figures out when the best times for working in the library are.

There is one downside, though. After two weeks in Boston she wakes up because of her nightmare for the first time. Her heart beating wildly, staring into the darkness of her room, Lauren tries to catch her breath again. Old wounds wouldn't be called like that if they healed easily. A small part of her had hoped, nonetheless, that the new start at college would draw a final line.

Of course it didn't.

And then there are exams. Midterms are approaching alarmingly fast. They are not that bad, really, they haven't done that much yet, but Lauren wants to have a good start into her course. But most of her time is spent at the classes. Lauren tries her best to ignore the fact that the one she's always best prepared for, and most nervous about, is given by one certain dark haired professor.

…

The next time they see each other, Friday afternoon, Bo is flanked by the head of the department and an impressive looking police officer, if she's interpreting the badge on his hip correctly. He doesn't look like one, though. Of course she has heard about the plans to install a FBI unit at the college, but no one in the student body knows anything definite about that rumour. Almost all students are ridiculously thrilled – most of all Kenzi. She can't shut up about how awesome agents on campus would be. Even Lauren can't help but feel a little excited.

Lauren's eyes flicker from the policeman to her prof. She's looking irritated and tense. Lauren frowns. It looks like they were having an argument. Her expression seems hard, her teeth clenched.

But when Bo looks up, and sees her student walking past, she relaxes a little, smiling softly at her.

Then the weekend begins.

…

Distraction, distraction, Bo tells herself by the tenth glance she throws at the mirror, two hairpins between her lips. She is standing in her hallway, trying to sort out her hair. It's not really doing what she wants it to. Not yet. But today, Saturday night she's going out with Tamsin after all, pre drinks at the Dal and clubbing in the city later on, so she wants to look as good as possible. Her dress is slightly shorter, leaving her lower back completely free, while her are heels higher than usual, and the gold around her neck and fingers exceeds her standards by several orders of magnitude. Bo intends to get laid. Work is draining all her strength in the last two weeks, and the last time she has undressed someone lies definitely far too long back. They won't have a ladies night out today. Tamsin will leave her car at Bo's place, and then they'll start at Trick's bar. Distraction.

The Dal is packed when they arrive. The music is loud, quite a few drunk already, and the ale strong as always. Tamsin loves it. Her eyes glint mischievously while she takes a first look around. She looks really good with her black leather jacket, even if in a slight feline way, but Bo has that air about herself as well. By the time they stroll up the bar two drinks have mysteriously appeared already. Bo can't tell whether Tamsin flashing her teeth or her badge scare away the guys who bought them. Not that she cares, anyways, Bo would never say no to free alcohol, and Trick's drinks are the best. Bo really appreciates the perks of being friends with a FBI agent.

The two women chink their glasses, grinning, and start scanning the crowd. They don't see anyone they know, though, nor anyone that could hold their interest for long. So they stay alone, for the time being, enjoying the atmosphere in the Dal.

After their second drink, Bo feels already pleasantly relaxed, they decide to move on. Tamsin stretches her lithe body, attracting a few more looks, and throws a lazy grin at Bo. "Aren't you afraid of running into someone you know?"

Bo smirks. "I think I've stopped caring by now."

Tamsin laughs. "Work that bad?"

"Just don't mention it. I'm here to distract myself."

Tamsin tilts her head to the side and gives her a small salute. "As you wish."

Luckily the bar isn't far away from the campus, which means that the clubs aren't far either. Of course Bo isn't keen on meeting any of her students, but they do know a couple of nice places where students rarely turn up. Or can afford to get in. They decide on the latter.

Bo's eyes light up when they arrive after a short walk at The Hydra. They've come at exactly the right time, the happy hour hast just started. The doormen see them, and let them in, past the queue, before Bo has the time to ask. "God, I love going out with you," Tamsin mumbles, as they saunter past people who have been waiting for over half an hour to get in. Bo grins widely.

Inside, the music blasts so loud they have trouble continuing with their conversation. "Nothing more distracting than cheap alcohol, huh?" Tamsin shouts in Bo's ear.

"Almost nothing," Bo tries to answer, shamelessly studying a brunette in a short dress walking past her, probably to smoke a cigarette outside. The darkness makes it hard to observe Tamsin's eyes, but Bo can see white teeth flash when she smirks at her friend.

Looking around them, they stroll up to the bar, getting a first round of shots. It's a really nice club, on the top floors of one of the smaller skyscrapers in Boston. The city lights falling through the gigantic windows are almost enough to illuminate the whole place. Despite the happy hour it's ridiculously expensive. Both of them don't mind, though, since the drinks are very good and neither Bo nor Tamsin can complain about their momentary financial situation at the moment. Of course, Bo has to go for something stronger than usual. The alcohol burns down her throat, leaving her coughing and Tamsin laughing. After she has calmed down enough again, Bo has to grin herself. She has promised herself to enjoy this night, and she will definitely put her plan into action.

Before the alcohol has the chance to start circulating in her system Bo is drawn to the dance floor. It's small, more than crowded, and sweaty. Bo loves it. The music vibrates in her body, filling it with energy until she's brimming with it. After a minute Tamsin appears at her side, a hot looking guy trailing behind her.

Bo has to laugh. Tamsin doesn't miss out on anything herself.

Seeing her at work Bo would have never thought that she likes to dance. But she does, and on top of that she is more than good at it. Her blonde hair tumbles down her back while she moves around him, and by the way he responds that guy seems to be drowning in her blue green eyes already.

Bo whirls around and takes in the people around her. Bodies are moving all around her, pulsating and pressing against each other. Bo takes a deep breath, closing her eyes, and allows the crowd to swallow her. The beat is fast and loud enough to vibrate in the floor underneath her heels. It feels incredibly good. Bo loses every feeling for time, or her own body, for that matter. She just moves.

Before she notices him approaching a dark haired, good looking guy takes her lightly by the hand and turns her around. He's a very good dancer, moving his body easily against hers, Bo has to admit that at least, so she gives him a seductive smile before trailing away further into the crowd faster for him to follow.

She loses herself again among the vibrating mass of people, enjoying every single second.

After quite some time she emerges again, almost breathless, and approaches the bar. Her eyes wander across the faces there, but she can't make out Tamsin. It doesn't worry her, though. This happens every so often they go out together. So she sits down on a barstool at the far end of the room. She waves the bartender to bring her a drink and takes in a deep breath. With the music still ringing in her ears, she feels for the first time in two weeks truly relaxed.

Suddenly, a hand is placed on her lower back, and a voice in her ear says huskily "Hello there. Can I buy you the next drink?"

Bo turns around slowly, a lazy grin tugging at her lips. There is a woman standing behind her, tall and so blond her hair shines white in the dark light. She lifts on eyebrow and doesn't take her hand away. Her face is less than one foot away.

Bo tilts her head to the side, looking her up and down. "Sure," she answers, blissfully noticing that the alcohol isn't slurring her voice as much as she thought it would.

The woman sits down next to her, and removes her hand from Bo's lower back, only to offer it to her. A wide smile spreads on her face. "I'm Katie."

Bo takes her hand, and holds it. She articulates her words carefully. "Nice to meet you, Katie. I'm Bo."

"Bo," Katie repeats slowly. "You dance fantastically."

"Do I?" Bo asks, finally, letting go of her hand to take a sip from her glass. She musters her across its rim.

"Mhm," Katie replies, holding her gaze.

Bo leans forward. She notices the dark red shade of lipstick on Katie's mouth when her eyes flicker down to it. "I'd return the compliment but I haven't seen you dance yet."

The blonde arches an eyebrow, trailing on finger on the glass surface of the bar between them.

"Wanna show me?" Bo asks, again with a smirk playing on her lips.

Katie takes a moment, her eyes dropping to the complicated pattern she's tracing on the bar. When they come back up again she's grinning. "I hoped you'd say that."

The next thing Bo remembers is pressing her hands against Katie's ribs through the silk that's barely covering them, and the surprisingly soft feeling of her mouth.

Turns out, Katie has a flat close by.

…

It's early evening when Lauren puts on her coat again. It's Monday, and she's finished a lot of work over the weekend already.

"Where are you going?" Kenzi asks, hear head popping out of her room, loud music blasting through the gap.

"There's a special lecture on family formation across the United States and Europe today in the department. Do you want to come too?"

"Hell, no!" Kenzi answers, shutting the door as fast as she'd opened it.

Lauren smiles to herself and leaves the student hall. It would have been more than surprising if Kenzi had wanted to come along. So Lauren sets off on her own. It is going to be interesting, she's sure about that – at least the leaflet she found in her department's entrance hall sounds promising. A social scientist from England will be speaking.

By now, her legs know the way almost on their own. It's not really dark yet, but going there. And it's getting colder at night. As she walks away from the student halls she meets less and less people. Lauren enjoys the peaceful atmosphere around her. The department, wedged between zoology and biochemistry, is at the edge of the campus, so it's luckily not that far away.

Unsurprisingly, a lot of people are there already. The guest lecture is quite a big thing, apparently. Her eyes scan the entrance hall for familiar faces unsuccessfully. Finally in the lecture theatre, Lauren huddles down in the top right corner. Normally she'd have tried to get a seat in the front row, but today it is filled by the brightest heads of this university. Lecturers, professors, phd students mainly. She is the only freshman present. So she hides, and tries to absorb as much as possible while pretending to be invisible.

That doesn't last long, though. One minute before the talk is supposed to start someone slides down her bench to sit next to her.

It's Bo.

Her professor. Close up. She looks gorgeous as always, with her black hair falling down loosely on her shoulders and her smile going supernova when her eyes meet Lauren's. Even though she's been sitting in the front rows in every single one of her lectures Lauren has never been this near to her. And she's never received such a smile. It's titillating. The hint of her perfume she catches reminds her of warm summer nights. Suddenly there's a low energy vibrating in the air, barely noticeable, but definitely radiating from Bo.

"Hello," her prof says.

Lauren freezes.

It's just respect for her, she tells herself for the thousandth time. She'd behave like that around any of her professors. That doesn't explain the physical reaction, though.

"The last row is for people who need sleep," Bo mumbles, flashing a toothy grin at Lauren. "What's your excuse?"

"I, uhm," Lauren stammers, completely baffled by the natural way her prof speaks to her. "I guess I just find it really interesting?"

Bo laughs softly. The way she ruffles her hands through her long dark hair intrigues Lauren almost as much as the melody in her voice. "That doesn't explain why you're in the last row, though. Shouldn't you be down there with the rest, Lauren?"

Lauren nearly blushes. She remembers her name. "I can listen just fine from up here."

"Well," Bo says, turning to face the speaker down in the lecture theatre, "I'm forced to be here. By my boss, actually. I'll have to socialize with him and that guy later." She nods towards the guest speaker, looking like she's just bitten on something very unpleasant.

Lauren doesn't really listen. In the semidarkness she can study Bo's profile close up. The lights have been dimmed. Lauren hasn't even noticed that the lecture has started already. Bo's dark hair curls, she realizes, and wonders how they'd look if Bo wouldn't straighten it.

"I'm glad about the company now, though," Bo murmurs, barely audible, putting her elbows on the bench and resting her chin in her hands.

Lauren's head snaps back, towards the speaker. She's unsure whether she's heard right, but now she's blushing furiously nonetheless.

She can't concentrate on the lecture at all. She's just way too close. Bo is less than an arm's length away. Lauren could touch her, if she wanted to.

She shakes her head, as inconspicuous as possible, to get rid of those thoughts. She should really pull herself together. It's just her prof, after all. Lauren manages to listen to the first half of the lecture.

Then Bo's eyes flicker back to her and it seems like she's watching her out of the corner of her eyes from time to time.

Lauren needs fresh air.

But even after the guest speaker has received his applause, Bo doesn't get up to let her out. Instead, she turns around to face her again, frowning. She spins a pen around her finger.

"Lauren," she begins slowly, "that idea has been stuck in my head for days and I'd really like to talk to you about this."

Lauren remains silent, but her eyebrows rise.

"Your assignment from last week has been as flawless as the one before. I think you have really great potential. And even though I have a lot of additional administrative work at the moment, I'd like to support you further." She pauses.

Lauren doesn't know where she's going, so she says, unsure, "I have my academic advisor."

"I know. But I want to tutor you."

Lauren's mouth falls almost open. "Do you think I need tutoring?"

"No, obviously not." Bo laughs softly. "You're the last one to need it. But I think you can get even better if I give you personal advice."

Lauren has no idea what Bo is talking about. "What do you mean?"

"Let's say once a week. In my office. I give you reading material, you write a short essay, and we talk about it."

Lauren swallows. That would mean an awful lot of extra work. "Can I think about it?"

"Sure." Bo gives her another smile. Then her head turns back towards the centre of the lecture theatre, where Hale is talking to the guest speaker. She sighs. "I have to go. Give me your answer as soon as you know."

…

This is going into a direction Lauren has never anticipated. Or planned. She doesn't see herself as specially talented.

Professor Dennis is the celebrated star of the Psychology department, charming, charismatic, gorgeous beyond belief and acclaimed author of several books on the workings of human relationships.

And Lauren is… Lauren. A student.

That Bo would notice her in the masses of students she encounters on a daily basis in the first place is more than improbable. Lauren always holds her head down, after all, sitting in one of the first rows and scribbling down extensive notes. A little bit older than most of the other students in her year since she does her second degree, she finds it hard to make new friends, so Lauren keeps on staying on her own for most of the time.

When they met on the hallway for the very first time, it must have been shortly after the second lecture, Lauren shot an insecure nod in the direction of her prof, unsure of the required etiquettes. To her amazement, though, the older woman greeted back. She tilted her head as she saunters past, two graduates trailing her to ask something of minor interest, and the curve of her lips tilted upwards in the slightest of smiles, when her eyes met Lauren's. Her own eyes flickered away immediately, she clutching her bag even tighter. A heartbeat later they we're on Bo again, to find her dark eyes still focused on her.

But it was only when Lauren sees how purposefully she ignores other freshmen that Lauren starts to realize that she might actually has attracted the interest of her professor.

Maybe that tutoring is not as bad as it sounds.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Thank you so much for your favourites, follows and lovely reviews! I appreciate every single one of them. I hope you enjoy the next chapter as well :)

IV

Lauren has walked past her office at least a dozen times more than entirely necessary. And each time she could feel her heart palpitating in her chest, her fingers itching to knock on the door. But she hasn't done it yet, and from her reasoning at the moment it doesn't seem likely. The more she thinks about it, the less she believes that the tutoring would be such a good plan after all.

It's just that she can't stop herself from making the detour on her way to lectures and the library in the department. It's not far away, after all, and it's easy to skip past it, to throw a lingering glance at that golden name sign on the wooden door as if that would somehow help her clear her mind.

But it doesn't. She's still fighting to make a decision. She's still torn between declining Bo Dennis' offer of tutoring, and accepting it. Even Kenzi has noticed that lately she's somewhat edgy.

It's a fantastic opportunity. Lauren would learn much more than by the original course work. It would surely help her for the exams. And it's highly unusual to be offered to a student in general. It would be stupid to refuse it.

But she knows herself very well after all. To impress her prof, she would definitely fling herself into more work than healthy. The essays and assignments she's writing at the moment already require a large part of her time.

And then she has the - somewhat irrational but it bothers her nonetheless - fear of not being good enough. The thought alone of being kicked out after the first session when Bo Dennis will ultimately realize that she made a huge mistake when she approached Lauren after that lecture is almost enough to prevent her from talking to her professor again. All in all, Lauren finds herself thinking more and more about her potential tutor – and drawn to her office.

But each time she sighs, and walks past the door once more.

…

On the other side, Bo winces every time she reads the invitation card she's received on the morning after the lecture where she met Lauren.

It's a formal dinner to celebrate the union of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and her university, set in the large, shiny conference centre at the edge of the campus. The semi-formal dress code asks for more than the usual smart clothes of choice for these occasions. And then the pretentious "Please join us for dinner & drinks" at the end.

She's sitting behind her desk, contemplating whether she should go or skip it. But as much as she wants to, there is no way she can get around this dinner tonight.

Even though it's plainly ridiculous. They all know that they're just pretending to get along. Well, at least Bo is. Even though Tamsin's idea has improved the situation a bit, being in a more independent position hasn't dissolved all her reservations. She is still more than wary. There is no way she wants to get in contact with the state again, in no way. Bo rubs her temples for the approximately hundredth time. Perhaps she should just try to drown her doubts about the whole project in champagne.

And just maybe she's also unnerved because it's been three days and Lauren still hasn't answered her offer.

That thought has been spinning around her mind with increasing frequency. For some reason she can't leave it at her office like her other student-related troubles, like over-due essays or projects gone wrong.

Maybe it's because it feels like Lauren is not even considering her offer. She doesn't have to, of course, it was just one of Bo's crazy ideas without much thought behind them after all, more an intuition than a real plan. Still, she thought it would be appreciated, not ignored. Bo feels stung. It unsettles her more than she wants to admit.

In the end, after she has driven back home after work brooding over the dinner, she does find a nice dress that fits the occasion, and doesn't scream "I don't want to be here" too loudly. And it's probably not the best idea, but she decides to drive her car to the dining hall. That means she can't drink as much as she'd like to.

She arrives on time, surprisingly. Soft jazz is playing from speakers in the corners of the entrance hall. She peels her coat off, hands it to one of the probably underpaid students running the dressing room, and merges with the crowd. Women in long dresses and men in black suits drift through the room, holding sprinkling champagne glasses and talking to each other in low voices. Hale is already looking for Bo in the small cluster of guests. He looks good in his suit, apart from the nervousness written plainly across his face. Dyson follows his every step. When they catch sight of Bo, Hale waves her over. Dyson smiles at her and greets friendly. Bo decides to play nice as well. So she walks over, greets back, and sighs internally, as Hale starts to introduce her to the assembled experts on profiling.

Bo smiles into the round, shakes a lot of hands, and tries to remember at least a quarter of the names she hears. After five minutes Hale spots someone else, and tells Dyson and Bo to wait form him for a second. They stand awkwardly in the middle of the crowd, not knowing what to say. Dyson clears his throat audibly. Luckily Bo remembers the file he sent her this morning.

Her first case. She still grumbles internally about the fact that they're working together now. But at least it's nothing particularly boring. Apparently, there's a notorious firebug in town, and Bo is supposed to describe his mentality as accurately as possible. If he's the narcissistic type they could catch him watching his next spectacle, if he's more neurotic they could track him down via the combustive agents he buys always at the same place. At least that's the plan. The only information she can work with, though, are the firemen reports of the burnt down houses and cars. Bo hasn't had much time yet to look into it, but at least it's something she can talk about with Dyson. For a little while.

Before it gets too uncomfortable, Bo's boss is back.

"Evony Marquise," Hale says, his hand at the lower back of an almost indecently expensively dressed woman with brown curls and a diamond necklace that scores at least in the five digit ranks at the local jeweller. Right, Tamsin's boss. "This is Bo Dennis."

The way her eyes travel Bo up and down, shamelessly, is matched by Bo's smug grin. The mutual measuring up takes only a couple of seconds, but Bo gets enough vibes to be happy about the fact that she's not working for her. Marquise is not a woman to be messed with, towering on black heels. She's bristling with the arrogant sort of dominance. They'd fight more than Bo already does with Hale. But maybe it would be more fun, Bo wonders.

The head of the Boston FBI department extends one long slender hand and allows a charming smile to spread on her lips. It doesn't quite reach her eyes, though. "It's a delight to meet you," she says lavishly. "Please, call me Evony."

Bo's firm grip on her hand is reciprocated. They shake their hands only minimally.

"Thank you so much for participating in our little collaboration." Evony's way of speaking makes her teeth shine white.

"The pleasure is all mine," Bo forces back, equally charming.

"I have heard so much about you from Dyson and Hale. You've quite disturbed our little psychology department, haven't you? With your books, I mean."

No, it wouldn't be more fun, Bo decides. "I have always compared my profession to portrait artists. Demonstrating how easily people make mistakes and false assumptions," she bites back.

"Oh, yes that is art indeed."

"Do you know a lot about art then?"

"I love it," Evony purrs, "more than anything."

"Appreciating beauty because you can't do so at work, I suppose? Fighting crimes must be awfully messy."

"Well, I wouldn't say my profession and my passion exclude each other. After all, a painter should begin every canvas with a wash of black, because all things in nature are dark except where exposed by the light."

Bo's eyebrows rise. Leonardo da Vinci. How pretentious. So she shoots a Jung quote back. "Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people."

Evony laughs. "We do not escape into philosophy, psychology, and art-we go there to restore our shattered selves into whole ones."

"Touché." Bo must admit, even though she's not sure where that quote comes from, it boils down their job descriptions to the essence.

Hale and Dyson watch their exchange silently.

Finally, they place their empty champagne glasses on a tray and sit down at a round table, Evony opposite of Bo, Hale and Dyson on their sides. The menu is exquisite, Bo has to grant that. Their unsubstantial chatter continues over a scallop carpaccio with artichokes and white truffle.

It's not hard to see that this dinner is just about testing borders. Sniffing out how far you can go in the real negotiations about budget and resources and access to restricted files. Evony shifts her attention back to Hale. He is the head of the department, after all, and responsible for the whole project. If she wants the best possible results with the least effort associated she has to charm him, not Bo.

By the time the turkey boudin arrives she has cornered him on two different occasions, and a third time nearly humiliated. Evony turns out to be exactly the kind of negotiating partner Bo thought she would be. It's almost amusing to watch her. It's just that every bit of work Evony can put on Hale's shoulders instead of her own will find its way on Bo's desk, so Bo has a vital interest in him standing his ground when the real negotiations begin.

Hale is not bad at this kind of talk, he was born and bred for these kinds of social interactions after all, but he lacks Evony's experience. And maybe her ruthlessness. And then the topic. Since they sat down their conversation revolves around fine art, and Evony subtly keeps it there. She is more than an expert on it, and can express herself eloquently through the most sophisticated comparisons of modern artists and their predecessors that make Hale look like a stumbling toddler at times. Not to mention Dyson. He seems completely lost. The only reason why Evony is not dominating the whole evening is Bo's unabashed impertinence to point out flaws and contradictions in the artist's ideas she's talking about. Which doesn't really count as criticising Evony. It irritates her even more than open hostility, though. When Bo laughs her eyes shine as much as her earrings.

For the drinks they stay in the dining hall, but the tables are cleared and they stand up, wandering around to talk to other guests. There are not so many in total, maybe fifty all in all, both from the Bureau and the department. Evony leaves them for the moment, to socialize with colleagues, supposedly. Bo hasn't had the chance yet to see everyone to say hi to friendly faces. But Hale doesn't let her go. Instead he leads her gently to a group of people Bo hasn't met yet, probably because they arrived shortly after them. The guests seem to cluster around one man in particular.

That's kind of when things start to get downhill.

Hale guides her to the centre of the small circle, where that guy is standing. He's turned sideways to them, so he blocks the view on his companion, until Hale introduces the newcomers warmly. "They're flying back tomorrow morning, so I am very happy to have the chance to welcome them this evening. Bo, this is Professor Michael McCarthy from California, and his wife, Katie."

In that moment McCarthy steps to the side, to greet Hale back.

_Fuck._ Bo nearly spits out the gulp of champagne she just took. She can barely conceal it as a little cough. Katie never mentioned her last name that night, or the fact that she has a goddamn _husband. _

McCarthy is a middle-aged experimental psychologist with grey tinged temples and a nice smile. It makes Bo feel horrible. She has enough self-control, though, to keep a blank face after the initial shock. Her stomach has been dumped in ice water. After nearly embracing Hale, McCarthy shakes her hand shortly, but Katie's fingers linger a heartbeat to long around Bo's. Their eyes meet briefly. While McCarthy looks at her mildly and explains what he does for a living, which is kind of pointless seeming that Bo does the same, one of Katie's eyebrows arches. She grins smugly, entirely inappropriate, and looks at Bo through long dark lashes. The curve around her mouth twitches. The red dress she wears accentuates her athletic body in the best way.

Bo makes a point of not looking at her.

When her husband finally stops, Katie cuts in, saying "It's such a pleasure to meet you, Bo."

Bo smiles only meekly, addressing her husband with the next question. "So, uh, how do you like Boston?"

"It's a wonderful city. We are very sad to be leaving so soon already," he answers, patting the hand of his wife on his forearm.

Seizing the first possible opportunity Bo flees to the bathroom. Luckily it's empty. After the door falls shut, the music fades away. Her heels clack sharply on the floor as Bo hurries to the wash basins and splashes a little bit of cold water on her cheeks. Then, staring at herself angrily in the mirror, she clutches the basin so hard with her hands that her knuckles turn white. This is one of her worst case scenarios come true. First of all, she doesn't want to mess with marriages, no matter how shitty they were in the first place. And then she doesn't want to commit the same mistake she made with Dyson again. Colleagues are off limit. And especially colleagues' wives who are friends with her boss. The ways this could go wrong… She shudders involuntarily.

Not knowing what to do, Bo fishes her phone out of her bag, and calls Tamsin. For some reason the blonde agent had somehow managed to dodge the dinner.

She picks up almost immediately. "What?"

"Sorry for bothering you, Tamsin, I can call you back later if you're switched off your bitch mode."

Tamsin grins; Bo can hear it in her voice. "I'm at work, nearly bored to death but in the last few minutes things got interesting, so be quick."

"Seriously, should I call you back?"

"Nope, as much as I love to tail random people, the reason why you're giving me a call from your party of the year does seem a little more interesting," Tamsin drawls.

Bo groans. She rubs her temple. "It's horrible. You won't believe whom I just met."

"Who is it?" The teasing undertone vanishes from Tamsin's voice. Now she sounds seriously curious.

When Bo tells her, though, she nearly dies from laughter.

"This is not helpful!" Bo snaps into her phone. Involuntarily, some of the crinkles on her forehead vanish, though.

"I'm sorry," Tamsin snorts, "It's just that you of all people are so bad at choosing the right person to get horizontal with."

"Thing is, we weren't even that horizontal. She has a very nice kitchen, to be honest," Bo adds dryly.

Bo can hear Tamsin struggling to hold the phone. "Why does this always happen to you?" She forces out, eventually, probably still shaking with laughter.

"I don't know, which is kind of the problem."

"Bo, you're screwed."

"I know. In all earnest, if her husband finds out and tells Hale he'll kick me out before I even get the chance to call my lawyer."

"It's kind of your own fault, isn't it?"

"I didn't know, for god's sake!"

"Well, it doesn't matter now anyways. She's leaving tomorrow, isn't she? So just get through the evening without doing anything stupid. Even though that seems to be difficult for you. Just try harder."

"Shut up, Tamsin."

"You called me, if I may refresh your memory."

"Yeah," Bo sighs finally, "maybe you're right. Maybe I'm just overreacting. I'm just going to ignore her and forget the whole episode."

"You'll be fine, Bo."

"Thanks. Your help is much appreciated." Bo's voice is dripping with irony. But maybe her friend has a point.

"Just do me a favour and at least try not to bang someone else accidentally," Tamsin scoffs.

"Oh, shut it." Bo rolls her eyes.

They hang up, and Bo wets her face once more with water. It's clearing her head. Maybe it's not that bad. Maybe Katie wants to sweep it under the carpet as well. Bo was just very surprised to see her again. Their night was nice, but nothing more, just one of many.

That's when the door swings open. Low jazz music drifts in. Bo straightens herself and throws a look in the mirror to see who stepped in.

Her bad feeling is increased by a hundredfold. She freezes. Of course it's Katie, looking stunning like the first time they met. Bo's alarm bells shrill. A very thin line appears between her brows as she watches the other woman approach her slowly.

"I was wondering where you were hiding," she drawls. "I think your boss is looking for you."

Bo doesn't play along, though. Instead she asks with coldness in her voice, turning around to face her "That night in the club, did you know who I am?"

Katie lifts one eyebrow. "I guessed."

"What the hell?!"

"What can I say, Richard's business partners add a little excitement to my life."

Bo crosses her arms in front of her chest, leaning against the sink behind her.

"This is my last night in this country," Katie almost purrs, drawing closer. Her eyes flutter down to Bo's mouth and up again. Bo can see her pupils dilate.

"It's kind of extreme to bring your husband, though."

Katie's lips twitch. "Rich will be fine. When he's not too distracted by work he bangs the secretary anyways."

"Listen, Katie, I'm truly flattered that you made the effort to turn up to the social event of the term to see me again, but I don't do second dates."

Katie pouts. "We're standing in the toilet of a random conference centre, with a pretentious dinner party going on around us, full with people we don't particularly like at best. They are having the time of their lives while they bore us to death. I say we should have fun as well."

She has a point there, Bo thinks, and there was a time when she would have said yes, but the circumstances have changed. "I'm sorry, but no."

Katie tilts her head to the side, bites her bottom lip and takes another step. Now she's close enough to touch Bo. So she extends one hand, very slowly, to place it on Bo's forearm. It is really tempting.

But before she can reach her, Bo darts around her and rushes out of the room. Katie didn't even lock the door, so Bo is out as quickly as anyone who could have walked in on them.

Immediately, the music and the noise of the crowd start to flood her senses again. So Bo takes a deep breath, and tries to relax, she has just steered around a great mess, after all. She fails, of course. Her muscles are still tense when she finds Hale and Dyson again. They are laughing about something funny McCarthy has just said, apparently.

Luckily, Hale has drunken enough already to buy Bo's excuse of a friend who got ill suddenly, so she can leave earlier than expected.

Fleeing from a hot blonde, she thinks on her way out to the parking lot. A couple of years ago she would have laughed at the idea. It's dark, and clouds diminish the already scarce light from the moon and stars further. As soon as she sits in her BMW she rubs her temples and tries to shake off the unpleasant experience.

…

Nonetheless, her thoughts are racing. This thing with Katie really shouldn't have happened. She can't let her private life influence her work to that extent. But if her mind was a clear lake this morning, and Katie just threw a few pebbles in, now there's a huge rock tumbling down the shore right into it.

After Bo steers her car around the first corner, she spots a familiar silhouette walking on the pavement at the side of the street. The headlights catch her fully only for a split second. But Bo recognizes her immediately, for some reason. Maybe it's the golden hair. The wind is playing with it.

So she steers the car over before Lauren can melt away in the darkness. Before Bo realizes what she's doing she pulls up at her side, her window already open. She lets the car roll alongside the walking student while she leans across the passenger seat. "What are you doing here?"

Lauren looks up, and stops dead in her tracks. Bo brings the car to halt as well. For a second Lauren sees at loss for words at the unexpected sight. Her hands are tugged deeply into her pockets, but now she pulls one out to brush a strand of hair away from her forehead. "I'm on campus, walking back home?" She suggests finally.

Bo blinks. Well, admittedly that has been a stupid question. But before she can scold herself internally another one escapes her mouth faster she can think it through. "Need a ride?"

"I'm sorry?"

Bo gestures at the passenger seat, smiling faintly. "I could drive you home."

Yes, Lauren wants to answer, I'm glad you asked, I'm glad to see you. Especially now that Bo's lips curve in that fascinating way of hers. Instead she says "Thank you, but I think I will be fine. It's not that far anyways." That's only a minor lie. It's actually twenty minutes, because she missed the last bus. And her rucksack weighs a ton with the books. But sitting in the same car as Bo Dennis doesn't seem like a good idea, as nice as the car looks from the outside.

It feels like overstepping a faint line she really doesn't want to cross. Or well, she'd rather not be tempted to cross at all, since she actually would move across without a second thought if Bo wasn't her professor. Lauren swallows and hopes that the night is dark enough.

"How long do you have to walk to your student hall?" Bo asks.

"Not too much," Lauren utters after hesitating briefly.

Bo would have smiled again if she hadn't spotted a group of four or five college boys on the pavement across the street. At that moment they hoot loudly about a joke one of them made. They are holding two vodka bottles and beer cans. A sharp wrinkle appears on Bo's forehead. Her eyes turn a shade darker. "Get in."

"What?"

"I said get in. Please." She leans further to the other side and opens the door of her black BMW. "I'll drive you home."

Lauren hesitates. Bo holds her gaze and doesn't pull away. Lauren bites her lip, puts another strand of her hair behind her ear, and takes two strides towards the car. Without looking at her prof she slides onto the passenger seat.

"Thank you," she mumbles, unsure how to behave around her.

"You're welcome." Bo senses her stiffness, while she starts the car again. So she asks mildly "Where do I drop you off?"

"I live, uhm," Lauren starts, throwing a glance at Bo. She stops, though, noticing for the first time how she looks. Her skilfully arranged hair coils around a small hairpin in a complicated way that accentuates her long slender neck. One curl has escaped, though, dangling down her to her cheek. The dark blue dress she's wearing outlines the shape of her collarbone. It heaves softly with every breath she takes. The tear shaped earrings match her golden necklace and the delicate bracelet entwining her wrist. If she had the time Lauren would love to study the patterns and emblems depicted on them, she's sure that they have a meaning hidden in them. And Bo wears a distractingly red lipstick. In short, Bo Dennis looks nothing short of breath-taking. Lauren swallows. Suddenly she's very aware of blood pulsating behind her temples.

"Well?" Bo arches her eyebrow.

Lauren's eyes flutter away again. She hopes that the car is dark enough to hide her staring. "Just around a few blocks around the corner," she finishes meekly.

"So, you live in a student hall?" Bo asks, trying to initiate a conversation.

Lauren is not a great help, though. She just nods, her eyes fixed on the street.

Bo throws another glance at the silent blonde on her passenger seat.

"You know, I'm not going to bite you."

Still no reply.

"Unless you're into that, but make sure to tell me your safeword first," Bo states dryly.

Lauren stares at her, wide eyed.

Bo looks over to her and sees her expression. She starts grinning. "Oh, come on, Lauren, I was making a joke."

Lauren keeps her eyes fixed on her for a second longer, before her eyebrows rise highly. Bo is just trying to be nice, after all.

"Oh, and you were just stirring up hope," Lauren mumbles under her breath before she can stop herself.

Bo laughs. Immediately, the tense atmosphere in the car vanishes. Both of them relax visibly. The smile stays on Bo's lips, while Lauren's shoulders sack down a bit and her hands stop clenching her rucksack on her lap. She even flashes a grin at her professor. That's when Lauren begins contemplating whether she should comment on her Bo's outfit.

"And I was already wondering whether I've anything in my face," Bo replies.

"No. Your face is perfectly fine." Then Lauren tries to ask as casually as possible "Have you been at a ball at the campus? Your dress looks great."

Bo glances over, briefly. Until now, she has forgotten all about the dinner. And the other guests. Lauren manages easily what a whole afternoon at the gym and a bubble bath couldn't do. She takes Bo's mind off. "Thank you," she breathes.

Lauren bites her lip, internally scolding her own stupidity. She shouldn't have said that. So she looks out of the window, watching the shadows rush past the car and trying to switch off her thoughts.

"I like your hair," Bo adds smoothly.

"What?" Lauren's head snaps back around.

"It's open. You usually tie it behind the back of your head during the lectures." Bo's eyes stay fixed on the street in front of her.

Now it's Lauren's time to blink in surprise. It's not something she has done with any particular intention, but now that Bo points it out it's quite obvious. She just wants her hair out of her face when she's working. But Bo mentioning this seems quite absurd, since she looks like she's just back from the New York fashion week after party. And maybe Lauren is also taken aback by the sheer fact that her prof just said how she likes her hair.

Bo clears her throat. Suddenly her fingers are not lightly bracing the wheel, but clenched around it.

There is nothing particularly unusual about the situation, Bo keeps reminding herself. She's helping a student. Something she has done a million times. The fact that Lauren is the first one she sits in the same car with, not to mention that she's the first person ever she allows in her BMW, Bo pushes to the back of her mind, for the moment. There are more important things right now.

For example the way Lauren's scent of wild honey slowly fills the car. It unnerves her. Her perfume is very faint, it just nestles there, finding its way into her head and not letting go again.

"So," Bo says, trying to distract herself, "are you revising for the midterms already?"

Lauren pats her bag. "Yes, I've just borrowed a few books from the library. Well, maybe a little more than a few."

Bo chuckles. "Nervous?"

"Mhm."

"Don't be."

"I would be less if you had any hints on what you're going to test," Lauren says, looking as innocently as possible.

"Yeah, you probably would. Shame we're not going to find that out."

Lauren laughs. "Well, it was worth a try."

Bo's mind trails off. She changes the topic abruptly. "Are you British by any chance?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Do you come from England by any chance?" Bo rephrases her question.

Immediately, Lauren feels very stupid. "Uhm, I lived there until my seventh birthday." She pauses shortly. "How did you know?"

"The words you used in your essay. And you have the slightest hint of an accent."

"Not many people notice it." In fact, Lauren can remember no other occasion when someone had been able to tell from her way of speaking.

"Why did you move?"

By the way Lauren tenses up again and lets her hair fall over her face Bo realizes that she's just asked something too personal.

"My parents," Lauren answers quietly, staring out of the window.

Bo keeps her mouth shut after that. She feels sorry if she's hit a sensitive spot, and even more bad for bringing back the tension in the shoulders of her student.

Lauren is about to ask what gave her away when she sees here house emerging from the darkness at the end of the road. She sits up and points at it. "That's where I have to get out."

Bo nods. She parks the car right in front of it and turns off the engine. Lauren notices for the first time how quiet it was when it was running. She has no idea about cars, but this one definitely seems expensive. She hopes that Kenzi doesn't see her climbing out of it.

"Thank you," she says again, this time smiling sincerely.

"You're welcome, Lauren," Bo answers. Her gaze wanders across Lauren's face while her mouth remains slightly open, as if she's about to say something else.

But Lauren has already opened the door of the car. Cold night air is streaming in. Again, the wind catches hold of her hair and blows a strand into her face. She brushes it away and glides out of the car, muttering "See you at the next lecture."

Bo can't answer before the door falls shut. Her eyes remain fixed on her back, though, until she has safely entered the house. Only when Lauren is finally out of sight she notices that they haven't talked about tutoring at all. She frowns lightly, unsure about what just happened, and starts the car again.

…

If Lauren is honest to herself, she's undecided until the moment she walks into Bo's office the next day.

It feels like she has not done much else apart from thinking about her offer in the last few days, even though she's busy revising for midterms. There is a myriad of voices in her head, shouting at each other. The workload, the chances she can get, that she's not good enough and her prof will kick her out again after the first tutorial.

It's just a painfully stupid idea.

But as soon as she's through the door, as soon as she sees her professor sitting behind the large wooden desk with files and folders sprawled all over it, and the cap of a pen sticking out from between Bo's lips as she's just signing something, Lauren's mind becomes clear.

Of course she's doing it. She could never look into her academic mirror again if she declined this. The chance is just too good.

Bo's eyes flicker up. When she sees who has just entered the room her lips widen around that black pen cap. She's smiling, and nods towards the chair in front of her desk.

Lauren clears her throat, and sits down.

With one graceful sweep Bo draws her pen for the last time across the paper. Then she puts the cap on again and lays it aside. "How can I help you?" She asks finally.

Lauren looks down. "Professor Dennis," she starts, but she doesn't get very far.

"Bo." The correction is gentle.

Lauren's eyes flicker back up. "I'm sorry?"

"Please, my name is Bo, not Professor Dennis."

"Oh, okay." Lauren swallows, not looking at her again. "Bo." She mouths the word carefully, as if to test its strength between her lips. It makes Bo arch her eyebrow a little. Lauren doesn't notice it, because she says the next sentence to her hands. "I wanted to talk to you about that tutoring you suggested."

Bo closes the file in front of her, and leans back in her chair. A thin line appears between her brows. "Have you come to a decision?"

"Yes." Lauren's answer is firm. She wrings her hands in her lap and looks up. "First of all, thank you for offering me this opportunity. I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome. I think you have a lot of potential and I'd like to advance that." The underlying message is clear. Please don't say no.

"Well, I would like to accept your offer," Lauren breathes.

Bo's smile goes supernova. She leans forward again. "Fantastic. I was hoping you'd say that."

The light in her eyes is contagious, so even though she still feels nervous Lauren can't prevent a similar smile from spreading on her lips when she glances at her.

"The workload won't be too heavy, I promise," Bo says. "Your normal course work comes first, naturally."

"Okay," Lauren lies. Of course it won't. But she's not worried about it, at the moment.

They arrange their first meeting on the morning of the following day, since Lauren has another lecture in twenty minutes, and Bo should really finish that report for Dyson and Tamsin.

"See you tomorrow, then," Bo says as Lauren stands up again.

"See you tomorrow," her student repeats lightly.

When she's at the door, Bo says "I'm looking forward to working with you."

"Me too." Lauren turns around and gives her another smile. She might have said something else while she slipped through the door, but the noise from the hallway drifting in drowns it. Bo smiles to herself nonetheless, while she finishes her work with new-found elan.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: A couple of episodes of the fourth season later I stand corrected (and I don't even know anymore whether I should be surprised or not) and start including some stuff from this season. Crystal is just too interesting to be left out like she is on the show.

Also, I'm not a psychology major, and even though I try my best to do my research as thoroughly as possible, there will be mistakes in my representation of the field cropping up now and then. Please tell me if you find any that have slipped through!

V

The tutorials turn out to be either caffeinated mornings in the silence of an almost empty department, or lazy afternoons with widely opened windows. That's what Lauren associates the most with them. The open windows let in the last truly warm sunrays of the year, tickling Bo's back when she's sitting behind her desk, and Lauren's toned arms when she's lounging in the black leather chair opposite of her. That's why both of them prefer these afternoons. As peaceful as the department is before the lectures start, it's getting colder every night and harder to leave the house in the morning. Even if Bo has some very good coffee from her private stock to offer.

They don't really see each other regularly. Instead, they have to keep arranging their meetings around each other's plans. Bo never knows exactly how the schedule of next week will look like, and Lauren's student life gets erratic at times as well. But they manage it anyways, and Lauren doesn't regret her decision once. The beginning is a little awkward, though, since Lauren cannot help herself but feel intimidated by her professor. It's not just her status and reputation, from time to time she's still daunted by Bo's appearance from close up.

Bo's lively personality more than compensates for that, though. She just doesn't try to be intimidating, as some of her colleagues do. There are no bragging photographs with other famous academics on the wall, and she also doesn't have a shelf or two filled with the books she's written. When they sit there and talk the only noticeable thing that gives the difference between Bo and normal lecturers away is the size of her office. And maybe the furniture.

Lauren will usually sit down in the comfiest of the three armchairs in the office, the one by the biggest window. Or she's striding up and down the office, bouncing ideas off of her professor with a cup of freshly brewed coffee or a sheet of paper in her hand.

Bo usually chooses to stay behind her desk, watching her student. Sometimes she'll spin around slightly, or lean back and stare at the ceiling, her brows furrowed, when she's pondering about something really difficult. Like the new paper in a journal of applied psychology, or, when her thoughts wander now and then, a way to circumvent Tamsin's idea of a 10 k run next summer. Then she absent-mindedly listens to Lauren's pen scratching over paper. She often scribbles something down, organizing her thoughts, while throwing glances at her prof from time to time. Bo usually pretends not to notice.

Lauren has no trouble whatsoever with the normal coursework, but Bo poses her difficult questions and problems that reach far deeper into the background of the topic they're covering in class. She loosely follows the curriculum in what she brings up for discussion, but doesn't hesitate to talk about Lauren's own suggestions. Stuff that interests her, be it how certain cognitive processes function or Jerome Bruner's influence on the general philosophy of education.

Of course Bo is the teacher and Lauren the student, but the blonde has a way of wrapping her mind around things that intrigues Bo immensely.

To call her bright would be the understatement of the year. At times Bo is sure that there are several completely independent but overlaying circuits running at high speed in her head. At least twice Bo has caught herself staring with her mouth slightly agape when Lauren recited whole paragraphs without even taking time to blink, and carried on to dissect the precise meanings of the content and the reflections on it.

Lauren gets to think about applied psychology, sometimes underlying neurobiology, and even ethical questions far above the level of her year. And she really enjoys it. It's challenging, without the pressure of tests and examinations involved. She's good at it.

And she sees Bo on a more regular basis.

That's not the reason why she's there, though, becomes a constant reminder in the back of her head.

Lauren doesn't want to embarrass herself completely in front of her, so she does her reading thoroughly. Of course, she manages to do so nonetheless, like the time they had been staring intently at each other across the desk, and Lauren ran her pen absentmindedly over her leg. She likes to draw geometric shapes when she's puzzling over something particularly hard, this time in-depth processing of information within social constructivism. And also pinning down the shade of brown in Bo's eyes. When she's not scribbling, she just plays with her pen in her hands, her thoughts miles away. So Lauren had moved it across her thigh for some time, trying to come up with an argument for her point of the inevitability of human discovery and thirst for knowledge.

Bo was playing devil's advocate, rejecting this concept as a fundamental human necessity. She had cornered her student's line of reasoning and watched Lauren struggle to get out of the trap she had set for her with her arguments. The discussion was serious, and still Bo found herself fighting the urge to smirk. Lauren had a valid point, and she knew it, but she lacked the experience to express her thoughts in a powerful and convincing way. Bo could see the wheels in her head spin furiously. This was why they were here, what she wanted to teach Lauren.

When her student finally stood up, because they had run out of time once again and by now Lauren despises that little black clock on Bo's desk from the bottom of her heart, Bo's eyebrows had risen to her hairline, her lips quirking upwards.

"Lauren?" She asked.

"Mhm?" Lauren was momently distracted by the way Bo licked her lip.

"Is that the cap of your pen?" She nodded towards Lauren's notebook where the little black thing is lying, not taking her eyes off her student. For the first time Lauren noticed now Bo's gaze had been glued to her jeans until she looked up at her and met her eyes.

Lauren blinked. "Yes, it is. Why?"

"What exactly have you been doing to your leg, then?"

Shit. Lauren's head snapped down. Shit shit _shit_, she hadn't put the cap back on her pen after finishing her last note. There are ink black shapes all over her grey jeans. "Oh my god," she groaned, blushing and starting to rub frantically at the little labyrinths on her upper thigh.

"You've got some artistic talent as well I see," Bo said, tilting her head to the side.

Lauren didn't have to look at her to the see the broad grin on her face. Instead she focused on her – fruitless - efforts to limit the damage. Luckily, she had ruined only a small area on her jeans with just a couple of strokes, but its lighter colour made the black ink pretty noticeable. In the end she just muttered "Screw it", though, and tried to leave the room with all the remnants of her dignity she could muster. It evoked another melodious chuckle from Bo before she said goodbye.

But as strange as it appears to Lauren, apart from incidents like this that make her long for the ground to open and swallow her whole, she really enjoys it.

And Bo does too. She smiled to herself as her eyes followed Lauren when she waltzed out of her office. The ability to concentrate so intensely on one subject as to lose herself completely in it fascinates Bo. And its results in Lauren's behaviour are more than a tad endearing.

She finds herself looking forward to their tutorials. The light in Lauren's eyes when she finds a solution to a problem kindles a warmth in the back of her own mind. And there is nothing better than watching Lauren ramble about a recent paper, experiment, or book she has discovered. She either glorifies it to an extent not really understandable for Bo – but on the other hand she just kind of stumbled into academics, so she has no real right to talk about the pursuit of science purely for the sheer joy of knowledge. On the other side, Lauren can be surprisingly viscous as well when she senses someone meddling with her theories. She usually tears these authors to shreds with her arguments, glaring, with flared nostrils.

Either way, there is a light in her eyes when she's speaking, and that alone would suffice to make Bo look forward to their meetings.

Thinking about this, Bo sighs and takes a deep breath.

She reminds herself for the twentieth time that she's just tutoring a student, and returns her focus on administrative stuff again. Or the cases she works on for Dyson and Tamsin. As much as she loathed the thought before, now she's quite pleased with the way everything turned out. Even if the state remains a looming presence in the background and she has to deal with Dyson, she sees Tamsin more often, and Hale is occupied by managing everything.

Bo is happy in those moments, she realizes. Her office becomes a happy place. Inevitably, after a couple of meetings, the relationship between Lauren and her starts to shift gradually. They are not so much tutoring, really, but rather valuing each other's ideas and opinions. They become not exactly equals, but they talk to each other on the same eye height.

…

And before they really notice what is happening, Lauren sits in Bo's office from time to time even when she's not having a tutorial, and their conversations do not always revolve around psychology.

Like the first time Bo asks what Lauren actually does in her free time after she learns about the number of books her student has went through in the last week. There's definitely no hint of disapproval in her voice, though. It's no rebuke, but more of a teasing mixed with surprise and genuine admiration for Lauren's abilities to read.

So the corner of Lauren's mouth turns upwards, and she says that no, contrary to popular belief, she does not spend all her time in the library.

"Where to do you go out, then?" Bo asks with a smirk. "They have to serve some really good liquor if they can keep you away from your books."

Lauren rolls her eyes, playfully. "I haven't found any good clubs so far. But there is one place I like, though. It's a bar, called the Dal –"

Bo's face drops at that, causing Lauren to stop. For a second she wonders what she has said was wrong, but then Bo bursts out laughing.

"What?" She stares at the older woman, a smile tugging at her lips too now that her prof is giggling like a little child. "Do you know it?"

"Well," Bo composes herself, "I do know for certain that they have a great ale."

Lauren frowns suddenly. The thought of running into her prof outside of college flitters across her mind and she doesn't know what to do with it. It's a nice thought, and one she should forget about immediately.

"Do you know the owner?" Bo asks.

"Trick? Yes, sort of."

"He's my granddad."

"Really?" Lauren's eyebrows rise.

"Yes."

"I would have never guessed." She sounds genuinely surprised.

"Your teachers have normal lives with normal families outside of college, too. Shocking, isn't it?" Bo smirks.

"That's not really what I'm surprised about, I think," Lauren ponders. "I've just always figured that you're one of those wealthy Bostonians that come from a very old New England family." Then she adds hastily, afraid that Bo will misunderstand her and consider her rude, "Don't get me wrong, that's still entirely possible, but I've always associated these families with private schools and polo at the weekend, not small Irish pubs."

Bo's lays her head back and laughs. Her eyes are glinting brightly when she answers "Says the British. Sorry to disappoint you, but sadly my backstory is as different as possible from a Mayflower descendant's."

"Sorry," Lauren says sheepishly, "sometimes my mouth is faster than my brain."

"As if that was possible," Bo teases, still looking at her with amusement.

The corners of Lauren's mouth twitch, but then she narrows her eyes. "I should have known, though."

"That I wasn't raised by a family whose name can be found on the Mayflower compact?"

"Yes."

"How?" Bo asks, tilting her head to the side. She's genuinely curious what Lauren thinks about her.

"The BMW isn't subtle, it's overly flamboyant."

Bo laughs again. "It's not flamboyant!"

"Oh yes, it is."

Bo licks her lip, still grinning. For a moment she considers throwing facts and statistics about her car model at Lauren, but in the end she settles for a playful "Careful what you say or I'll never take you on a ride again."

Lauren raises her hands in defence, smirking. "I haven't complained about the comfort."

…

Midterms come faster than expected. Lauren is not unprepared, of course, but if she's honest she was seeing herself lying on the floor of her room with dozens of books open around her, panicking for three days straight. She doesn't, though. Kenzi keeps her mind off. And the tutorials help as well.

One day she finds herself standing in the hallway in front of the board with their examination times, clutching a pair of folders to her chest. It's close to the lecture theatre so she's not surprised when she hears heels clicking on the floor. Bo appears at her side, facing the board as well. Lauren is sure it's her even before she catches a glimpse of her dark hair and blazer from the corner of her eyes. Already smiling, she turns and is about to say hi when someone else joins them. It's Hale, somewhat stressed, who had already been looking for his favourite professor. Without any greeting he asks her how the report of her second case is proceeding.

Lauren is about to retreat respectfully from the head of the department and Bo, when she is stopped unexpectedly. Bo focuses on Hale on her other side. He in turn completely ignores the second woman, and gives Bo a short update about a phone call he just got from Evony.

Still, by lightly placing her hand on her student's elbow Bo prevents Lauren from going. It's wordless. She doesn't even look at her while she grasps her arm. She just notices that Lauren is about to shuffle away, and steps closer to stop her.

And suddenly Lauren's throat becomes so dry that she's thankful for Hale talking to Bo so she doesn't have to speak. Bo's hand is warm, she can feel it through her sleeve. She wonders whether that means that Bo can feel as well how her heart palpitates in her chest. So she concentrates on keeping completely still, and the sensation Bo causes. The words of the head of her department anymore are completely lost on her. Not that she would have understood them anyways, but still, his voice completely drowns in the pulsing white noise in her ears.

Finally Bo turns around to Lauren again, giving her a gentle smile, and removes her hand from Lauren's arm. She nods towards the examination times and wishes her good luck. Then, as if nothing has happened, she goes on into the lecture theatre for her next class.

Lauren stands foolishly in front of the board for a minute, staring at the numbers without taking any in while her heart hammers in her chest, trying to forget how much the tingling sensation of Bo's touch has thrown her off balance.

And Bo in the lecture theatre wonders why she suddenly the question she wanted to ask Lauren fell out of her mind completely when she laid her hand on her elbow.

…

And before Lauren realizes it, midterms are already over.

In celebration of their first passed exams Kenzi persuades her to sleep in and then go out for a gigantic breakfast, since both of them have been too tired to do anything special the night before, apart from going to the Dal. Where Lauren spent an inappropriate amount of time looking for Bo, against all reasoning. She wasn't there, though.

On their way to Kenzi's favourite place Lauren tries to explain to her that they haven't passed the exam until they know their grades. Her friend doesn't listen, of course. She's too happy about the fact that their done with them, and that they're eating at the small diner-like restaurant Kenzi frequents since the beginning of the term. The food is plentiful, greasy and cheap, but good, and it serves almost 24/7. Perfect for students. Which also means that's usually quite full. It's a nice day, though, no clouds in sight for once, and everyone seems to be outside, doing something to enjoy the weather.

Luckily, when they arrive at the restaurant their favourite booth is still vacant. Lauren can't help herself but continue talking about exams. "We don't have much time to relax, though. The next thing we have to start thinking about are the finals at the end of this term."

"Lauren!" Kenzo scolds, rubbing her temples. "By the way you talk you've read the Oxford English Dictionary from cover to cover. Don't tell me that you haven't come across the definition of the word 'chill'."

Lauren smirks at her. "An unpleasant feeling of coldness in the atmosphere?"

"I swear to god you're unbelievable, doc." Kenzi groans, waving for the waitress. "It's not even eleven and I need a drink already."

Lauren laughs again. Despite her teasing she feels very good about being done with the exams as well, and smiles at the approaching waitress. It's Crystal.

She's very sweet, they've talked a couple of times over Lauren's cappuccino and once after her shift ended, when Lauren left to pick up Kenzi from her lecture, so they walked a short way together. She lives around the corner and works as a waitress to fund her Economics degree.

Kenzi grins as well, stretching herself luxuriously and cracking her knuckles. "Nothing better to start a day with than a full English."

"Hey you two," Crystal says. "Same as always?"

Always might be overstretching it a bit, they're only here for the third time. But they don't really mind, since by this time of the term no one wants to cook for themselves anymore and Kenzi could easily become a regular her, dragging Lauren along.

"With extra bacon for me please," Kenzi answers.

"Sure." Crystal turns to Lauren with a crooked grin. "And you get the buttermilk pancakes plus a glass of orange juice, and a cup of Earl Grey with a spoonful of sugar?"

"Perfect." Lauren's smile widens at Crystal remembering what she had the last time, even though that was more than a week ago. She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I still don't understand why you don't go for the fried dream of fatty meat and eggs they have in this place," Kenzi comments, slouching on her seat. "My mouth starts watering just from thinking about it."

"True," Crystal adds, arching her eyebrow suggestively as she scribbles down their order, "it's not as if you had to watch your waistline." She flashes another grin at Lauren, her eyes darting down to her lips and back up again.

Lauren laughs in response. "I just don't like that amount of cholesterol in the morning."

"Yeah, you were fine with the cheese on the pizza yesterday evening," Kenzi says.

"So, pizza is your thing then?" Crystal asks, tilting her head to the side. The little notepad with the orders is long gone, put into her belt. Instead, one hand rests on her hip, the other one casually on the red leather of Lauren's backrest.

Lauren lifts her eyebrows and nods while holding her gaze.

"Duly noted," the waitress says, almost mischievously. She gives Lauren a last smile and turns around again.

Kenzi follows her with her blue eyes while she strolls back to pass on their order. "Oh my god," the black haired girl drawls. "She's totally into you."

Lauren looks up. "Crystal?"

"Hell yes! Did you just see that?" Kenzi gesticulates widely. "She was all over you!"

For a moment Lauren looks at her sceptically. "Really?" She turns around, scanning the restaurant. Crystal is just about to go through the opened door to the kitchen. In that moment she glances back over her shoulder, though, looking back at Lauren. Their eyes meet again. Crystal pauses for a second, the corners of her mouth slowly turning upwards, before she finally vanishes into the kitchen.

"See?" Kenzi insists.

…

Bo puts the water bottle to her lips again, still chuckling about Tamsin's story of Dyson accidentally offending a complete police squad at their last case. The two women's morning run has been really good. Bo feels refreshed and energetic. Maybe because her jogging partner doesn't have as much time as usual and they shortened their run.

This is also why Tamsin wants to grab breakfast on her way to work instead of going back home beforehand. So she pulls Bo into one of those fast food places very common around the campus. Since students seem to be willing to spend an awful lot on fast food a whole range of them can sustain themselves around the university. And sometimes greasy breakfasts can cure the worst hangover, if you manage to get out of bed. Bo has made use of these places and their food once or twice herself, and appreciates their frequency. Tamsin also suspects money laundering.

Besides, it's also nice after a long run. Since Tamsin wants to get some doughnuts, which are according to her to die for and the only reason why she doesn't look into the money laundering thing, Bo decided to accompany her.

The doorbell rings faintly when they enter. The kind of smell that you find only in places like this fills Bo's nose, and makes her stomach rumble. Tamsin laughs at the sound while she walks past her.

"This hungry already?"

"We earned it," Bo shoots back with a smirk, holding the door open for her friend. The faintest hint of sweat lines her hairline. The blonde strolls in, right up to the counter. When Bo lets the door fall shut and turns around to follow Tamsin she catches a glimpse of familiar golden hair in the last corner of the restaurant.

It's Lauren, and a friend.

She's flirting with the waitress.

Bo's jaw clenches. Involuntarily, her hands tighten around the water bottle while she waltzes up to Tamsin. Waiting behind her, she tries, as inconspicuously as possible, to throw another glance at them again. Just as Lauren does the waitress laughs. She wears a very short skirt, as Bo notices sourly. Then she steps away from Lauren's table. The blonde's head turns back to her friend.

Bo doesn't look at her, though. Instead, her eyes narrow dangerously as she follows the waitress with her gaze. If glares could kill that girl wouldn't be able to make her way back to the kitchen, with two smoking holes in her back by now. When she sees her flashing another broad smile at Lauren across the whole room the plastic bottle in Bo's hand finally gives in, with a rather loud crushing sound. That makes Bo snap her head around again, blinking rapidly.

In the meantime Tamsin places their order, not noticing Bo's behaviour. Sweetly, she leans across the counter and lets her badge hang from her open hand. The guy behind the counter gulps visibly at the sight. Bo isn't sure whether it's the golden letters displaying FBI or Tamsin's low cut sports top right next them, but either way they get their brunch faster than usual.

Her jaw is still set in stone, though, when Tamsin turns around to lean against the counter. She crosses her arms and tilts her head to the side, finally looking at Bo's scowl.

"Are you alright?" Her eyebrows rise to her hairline.

Bo's runs her tongue across her teeth, still with a murderous expression, when the waitress appears again, probably to bring a bill to a guest.

Tamsin follows her friend's gaze. "Jesus, did that girl spit on your last burger or something?"

Her comment brings Bo back to reality. She frowns. Where the hell did that reaction just come from? "No," she shakes her head and looks down. "I just don't like waiters who blunder along like that."

Tamsin gives her another calculating look. She doesn't buy a single word of what Bo just said, most of all because she can't see any blundering whatsoever. But thankfully she doesn't push since in that moment the guy behind the counter hands the doughnuts and the coffee to her.

Bo takes hers as well and thanks Tamsin for bringing money. She didn't think of putting any in the pocket of her sweatpants before the run. Her mind is still miles away, though.

With another scowl she throws her crushed bottle in the bin. She's confused. And somehow annoyed with herself. Most of all because she doesn't know where the sudden mood swing comes from. She just saw a student out of the corner of her eye, after all. Around here, that happens all the time. No need to get sour like that. Her eyes flicker back to Lauren. She's speaking to her friend again. And still, the interaction between her and that waitress rubs Bo the wrong way. Immensely.

But the situation itself isn't long enough to allow her to reflect about it right now. Tamsin is already halfway out of the restaurant when Bo finally follows after her.

…

Lauren would have missed her. It's really close, most of all because she's sitting with her back to the door. But, in the end, her head tilts in exactly the right moment.

Because by now, her stomach is rumbling as well. She is really hungry, and keeps glancing towards the door through which Crystal vanished, hoping for her pancakes to appear.

For that reason she's also not really willing to think, not to mention talk about their blonde waitress. And after she receives only a few muttered, non-descriptive answers from Lauren, Kenzi drops the topic again, grinning smugly. She awaits their food with even more anticipation.

That's when Lauren catches sight of a familiar face out of the corner of her eye. That brief glimpse is enough to cause her head to spin around fully.

Their eyes meet, hazel on chocolate. For a heartbeat Lauren sees the conflicting emotions scudding over Bo's face like wisps of clouds before the rainstorm. Lauren doesn't really understand them, not to mention interpret them correctly.

But then Bo catches herself. Her expression clears. The line between her eyebrows vanishes. Across the room Lauren can watch a slow smile spreads across her lips until it's lighting up her eyes.

Bo's hair is tied behind the back of her head in a long ponytail. Somehow ripples softly when she moves. She's in simple sports gear, wearing sweatpants and a black, low cut tank top that fits only loosely and, at her side under her arms, allows glimpses at her rib cage and sports bra. In the sunlight falling through the open door her skin is gleaming faintly with sweat.

For the split second she sees her Lauren just stares. It's the unexpectedness that blows her away. Bo looks absolutely stunning.

And she is accompanied by an incredibly good looking blonde in a similar outfit, only that her midriff is completely bare.

The mutual acknowledgement, the single glance, takes only a heartbeat. Then Bo steps through the door, and disappears from Lauren's field of vision again.

Stupefied, Lauren turns back around and shakes her head.

No, she tells herself, she's not going the try to find out which way Bo left, or what she ordered, or whether she is used to come here every week at this time. Lauren clenches her teeth. Over and over again she tells herself that she's not thinking about this, she's not letting this get so much influence over her, and most of all she's not hoping to see her out of college again. She is not one of those people who follow Bo like puppies, desperate for attention.

And most of all, she is not one of those people who have crushes on teachers.

It was simple in the beginning. So easy. Just smiles and looks, and muttered greetings, if Lauren felt particularly brave. It had startled her at first, though, that she'd receive even that. The tutorials are more than baffling. But that's all there is.

Luckily Kenzi doesn't notice how the appearance of Bo has caused Lauren to sharply suck in her breath. And she has seen her for just a few seconds int total. Instead, Kenzi focuses on Crystal, who is approaching their table again, this time with their breakfast. Lauren doesn't even see her, though.

…

Bo has similar thoughts on her way home. But thinking about Lauren doesn't help to solve the conflict, not at all. Up until now she wasn't even aware that there was one in the first place. Strictly speaking, there is just no need to ponder over this. There shouldn't be. Bo just enjoys her student's company. And that's the keyword.

Just a_ student._

Of course she's noticed that there has been a build-up of something over the last couple of weeks, though. It's just that until now she hasn't realized that something has to happen about that.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Happy (remaining) holidays! This chapter is longer than usual - take it as my belated Christmas present ;)

And of course, thank you all for your kind words in the reviews!

This is a doccubus fic, I promise (and this time I mean it!), but we're talking about Bo Dennis and Lauren Lewis – that it's not exactly easy for them is pretty much part of their genetic make-up (be it human or Fae). ;)

This chapter is focused on Bo, although I've included a glimpse at Lauren's backstory as well, but the next one will be completely on our beloved Med school dropout.

Warning for (implied) violence.

V

Bo clenches her teeth. She's sitting in her office, going through second year assignments. Or at least she's trying to. But it's no use, she just can't concentrate on anything properly.

And the damp, grey sky outside is giving her a headache. Winter and finals seem to be approaching at an identical, accelerating, speed. The days flitter past, and lately she feels like she's too much in her office. The black leather and the dark wood of the furniture begin to annoy her every time she enters the room. Now, sitting behind her desk, she finds herself longing for an afternoon in the sun.

With a deep frown Bo reads the same line for the fourth time, not taking anything in, when she finally gives up. She sighs and drops the paper on her desk, leaning back in her chair. Absent-mindedly, she spins her pen around her fingers, staring at the ceiling. Out of nowhere her thoughts return to a topic she's desperately trying to push to the back of her mind.

The whole situation is messed up. She's running against a wall, no matter which way she turns. And the worst problem is that Bo still doesn't really know what the hell she's doing.

Bo can physically feel Lauren's distress about her cutting down the tutorials to once every two weeks. Bo blames it on the approaching finals, not willing to give away the real reason.

But there was no other way. She had to do something, and for once talking it out hadn't seemed like a good idea.

What on earth should she have said? When you're around I feel things I absolutely cannot feel? That's the most idiotic line Bo can come up with, and it doesn't even come close to what she really thinks, or feels, but she's even less able to put that into words. So Bo attempts to forget the whole matter and concentrate on her as her as a student under her academic wing.

But it pains Lauren, because she thinks Bo is rethinking whether their tutorials were a good idea, and seeing that pains Bo.

The problem is that she feels very comfortable in Lauren's company, but very much less so when she's not around, and somehow that strains everything. It's almost like their having an argument. A silent one, carried out with pursed lips, loaded comments and glances, or lack thereof, but an argument nonetheless. Lauren has stopped replying to her emails asking about tutoring times straight away, while Bo avoids looking at her in class. And she wants that to end more than anything, if she just knew how to do it.

Instead, she flings her pen across the room and presses the bridge of her nose, cursing silently.

There is an aching feeling at the base of her head, in the back of her throat, and in the depths of her chest.

Normally, and by now Bo is absolutely sure about that at least, she would have went for her straight away, trying a straightforward way to get the thoughts about her out of her system. That's what she used to do whenever someone got under her skin like that.

Even though she's more careful nowadays, that was what she's used to: not caring about consequences, and most of all not caring about the distinct difference between what she feels about Lauren compared to what she feels about Katie, for instance. Both have gotten into her head, on completely different routes, but normally their presence there alone would have sufficed for her more elementary instincts to kick in. She knows it, because she used to do this for way too long. With Katie, it worked really well, she doesn't really think about her anymore – apart from that one big complication she couldn't possibly have known about beforehand.

But not with Lauren. First of all, she's a student as Bo doesn't get tired or recalling, and secondly because she's _Lauren._

Before she can elaborate that thought further, though, someone knocks on her door. Bo winces. Rubbing her temples, she calls out "Come in." The amount of frustration and coldness in her voice surprises her.

It's Dyson, followed by Tamsin. The mussed looking agent with the more than three days stubble approaches her desk right away, while Tamsin carefully closes the door behind them. They are wearing their work outfit as usual, Tamsin with her hair in a tight bun behind her head and a black blazer, Dyson in a leather vest over a dark shirt. Their golden badges glint at their belts, right next to their holstered guns. For a moment Bo wonders what the students think about the two of them waltzing through their hallways.

Dyson lays a file in front of her. He flips it open, and slumps down in a chair in front of her table. He smiles at Bo, gesturing her to read it.

The file is quite thick. It made a loud, thumping noise when he put it on the desk. There are yellow notes and markers sticking out of its side, and some of the pages are already slightly crumpled, giving away how much it has been read already. There is also a photograph clipped to the first sheet of paper.

„Wow," Bo gasps and doubles back from the file, as far as her chair allows it. "What on earth is that?"

"A victim," Tamsin states mildly. She watches Bo with intense eyes, still standing in the middle of the room. The professor is too occupied to notice her, though. Her eyes are glued on the picture.

The man's face is more than blue, it's almost black. His lips are swollen, there are purple bruises all over the right side of his face, blood smeared around his mouth. His left eye is staring ghastly into the distance, and the right one is not even visible under the swelling. His mouth is slightly opened, but looks somewhat offset, as if the jaw has been dislocated. His nose protrudes in an unnatural angle. The forensics report underneath the photograph confirms what Bo has been thinking. He has been beaten to death.

Bo's stomach is close to revolting.

"It's okay," Dyson says. "Seeing your first dead body is never easy. Even if it's just a picture."

Bo nods thankfully, and swallows again. She's very glad that it's just a picture, even if it's more than horrible. The cruellest thing about this is not the photograph itself, but his name. It's written on the paper sheet the picture is clipped to, above his height, weight, address, and other data. _David M. Jenkins._ This is not an anonymous face like the ones in the newspapers. This was a normal human being with hopes and aspirations and dreams like everyone else. He had a nice house in the suburbs, maybe even a big car, paid for by his job at an insurance company. It's likely that it involved a lot of paperwork, but he was quite fit so he probably did sports in his free time. Maybe baseball, or badminton, he seems like a team-player. And he had a wife and kids. He led a normal life.

Bo glances away from the data back to his face. No one deserves this.

And he's not the only one. There are more pictures, and names. "Jesus," she mumbles while going through them.

All in all, the file contains the most important information about six dead men, and one who survived, barely, with a severe concussion, the loss of several teeth and his jaw. According to the file the incident happened several weeks ago and he's still in hospital. Without any recollections of the incident.

"Why are you showing me this?" Bo asks, a suspicion already forming in her head.

"We want to find the guy who did this," Tamsin states simply. Bo nods.

"We guess he gets a kick out of mutilating them," Dyson adds.

"Sadism?" Tamsin's suggestion comes from the window.

"No," Bo murmurs, bowing closer again. She frowns while she studies the pictures. Her fingers tremble slightly. Tamsin's idea has a point, but this doesn't look like it. But Bo really doesn't want to look at them too hard. "This is really disgusting."

Tamsin laughs bitterly. "Welcome to the job."

Bo swallows, and pulls herself together. She has to give a professional comment on this.

"Well, the victims look similar. All men with the same height, hair colour, stature. And judging from the coroner's and your reports they were attacked in dark back alleys, behind pubs and clubs. There's definitely alcohol involved. The guy who did this wasn't deliberately trying to kill them. The hits are too poorly aimed for that. But he hit them again and again, even when they were already lying on the ground, and he used a lot of force. Possibly he's angry with someone who looks like that and channels that by hitting the hell out of similarly looking people."

Tamsin turns back around and tilts her head to the side. "Those are some really bad anger management issues."

Dyson scowls at her for that, before he turns back to Bo and says "Thanks for your help. We can work on that. But I'd like to have a more formal report."

Bo looks at him blankly. "Do you expect me to make a precise analysis of this?"

"Just go through the details. You might find something else."

Bo clenches her teeth. But she nods.

Dyson takes a deep breath and stands up again. "That's it for now. Just send it in as soon as you're finished. Or text, whatever suits you. Just make sure you message us as quickly as possible."

Bo frowns again, this time not from the content of their conversation but his tone. She's not working for him, they're equal partners. And she doesn't like receiving orders. But she keeps her mouth shut.

Dyson smiles at her again. "Sorry for dumping this on you like this. But that's why we're working together now. And the last case, the one with the firebug, worked out really well. You did a great job with that."

Faintly, Bo smiles back at him. "Thanks."

He turns towards Tamsin. "Let's go."

"I'll be right after you," the blonde answers.

Her partner lifts his eyebrows, but leaves with the words "I'll wait at the car."

Bo slouches back in her chair, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. "I really don't understand how you deal with this."

"You get used to it," Tamsin answers.

"How long does that take?"

"Depends."

Bo groans again, and looks at her friend. "What do you want to talk about with me?"

"Oh, I just wanted to chat," Tamsin drawls. She's still standing at the window, her arms crossed but her eyes glinting.

"This is not the right moment, I think," Bo says. Her throat is dry as sandpaper. She needs something to drink, preferably something alcoholic. The pictures haunt her.

"There is never a right moment for you."

"Well, this one is particularly bad."

"There is something going on with you," Tamsin states.

Suddenly, she bends down and picks up the pen Bo threw across the room in frustration. She arches an eyebrow at her, and places it on her desk. Bo gives her a scowl in return.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. That's the problem."

"There is nothing wrong with me and there is no problem."

"When was the last time you went out with me?" Tamsin asks suddenly.

Bo blinks, the sudden topic change taking her by surprise. "What?"

"It was weeks ago! And every time if asked whether you wanted to since then you've said no."

"I don't know whether you've gotten the memo but there's such a thing called work. And if you want to see me more often you have to start paying for my drinks, Tams," Bo scoffs.

"Sure, prof, if you hadn't such a dreadful taste which I absolutely cannot support," Tamsin shoots back.

"I still don't see what you're aiming at."

"Oh my god," the blonde exclaims suddenly. Genuine surprise rings in her voice. "You still have feelings for Dyson!"

"_What?_" Bo blurts out.

"You've been acting weird since this whole FBI business started. At first I thought it was the beginning of the term, but it's only getting worse. And what else started this term? Our collaboration with the college. I didn't get it at first but now I think I understand." She adds with a smirk, "You see Dyson more often again. And that reminds you of things you'd rather forget."

Bo is so utterly taken by surprise that her jaw drops. Tamsin usually knows her very well, but this misreading of her behaviour is more than colossal. The blonde grins at her smugly, though, as if she just solved a Sherlock Holmes mystery before the great master himself.

Bo scowls at her again. "First of all, that's complete bullshit. Yes, our breakup was messy, but we're both over it. And secondly, I've _not_ been acting weird."

Tamsin lifts her eyebrows. "Well, he most definitely isn't. And your reaction right now speaks volumes, prof."

Bo rolls her eyes. Tamsin only calls her prof when she's behaving particularly stupid.

But Tamsin's words sent her thoughts spiralling around each other. Yes, maybe, and just maybe, she has been acting a little uncharacteristic. She hasn't paid much attention to her usual hobbies, and neglected the gym. Furthermore, there hasn't been anyone since Katie. She hasn't slept with anyone for weeks.

Maybe that's the reason why she feels so edgy lately, Bo wonders.

But on the other hand work _has _been undeniably tough. Not just the FBI business that's unnerving her, but also Hale's stupidities about it, and the general organizational balancing of her normal work with it. She's also thinking about writing again.

And then, out of nowhere, Lauren's face pops up in her mind.

"For the last time, Tamsin, I do not want anything from Dyson."

"Of course you don't."

"I'm serious!"

Tamsin just smirks again.

"And this is honestly not the right moment."

The pictures of the dead men float back into her thoughts, driving Lauren away, despite Bo's efforts to hold on to her face.

"Well, anyways, see you around, Bo," Tamsin says lightly. She uncrosses her arms, gives her another long judging look and strolls to the door, following her partner.

"See you," Bo forces out. She seriously considers throwing something after her for a moment. Tamsin is a very good friend, but sometimes Bo could take her by the shoulders and shake her until her teeth rattle.

At least Bo has some time left until she has to get to her next lecture. If she's honest she would have skipped it right now. She needs a time out after those horrible pictures. Bo hasn't gone through an extensive police training on top of her college education. She's not equipped to shrug off things like that so easily.

But now she'll use the few minutes of freedom wisely.

…

As soon as Bo opens the door to the roof a cold wind bites every bit of uncovered skin it can reach. She adjusts her scarf and dugs her hands as deep as possible into her pockets. Then she takes a deep breath, though, allowing the cold air to fill her nose and bristle in her skull. Maybe it can drive away the reappearing faces of the bloody, beaten victims. Bo wants the dark thoughts gone.

She steps out on the concrete roof of the department building. Sighing, she starts searching for the packet of cigarettes in her bag.

She's going to regret this, but right now she needs a smoke.

She hasn't done so in ages, but today just crawls under her skin, and the grey smoke is cathartic. And she won't catch cancer from a single cig. At least that what she tells herself, knowing how irrational it is.

Finally she finds the packet and opens it. It's already crumpled around the edges and the blue colour fades away from all the time she has kept and carried it around in her bag, but the content seems just fine. As she puts one of the long white Gauloises between her lips she looks up again.

That's when she sees someone leaning on the metal banister at the far end of the roof. Bo her squints, before the corner of her mouth starts twitching. A second she is torn between grinning and groaning about her luck today, and in the end she settles for simply joining her.

It's Lauren. And she has a way of preventing Bo from thinking straight.

She hasn't really seen her in the last ten days. Well, she has caught glimpses at her during the lectures or on the hallways, but they haven't really spoken to each other. As meticulously as Bo plans in advance, the moment Lauren appears her mental preparations go flying out of the window, waved farewell to by her subconscious.

Lauren stands at the edge of the roof, all in beige and brown and white. She's leaning over the railing, her left foot lifted slightly from the floor. Her hair is open unlike it had been in this morning's lecture. It's cascading down her shoulders, a little tangled from the wind. Now she shakes her head and draws her hand through it.

Bo stares at her for a moment, mesmerized, before she glides next to her. Bo's heels click on the concrete. Lauren heard them, supposedly, since she doesn't flinch when Bo starts speaking. Instead, she keeps staring ahead, even when Bo aims a mumbled question at her, muttered past the cigarette between her - already curling - lips.

"You know that students are not allowed up here?"

"You know that no one is allowed up here?"

"Technically, I'm a member of staff."

"Still, smoking is not allowed on these premises."

"We're not within the building. Do you see a smoke detector anywhere?"

Lauren laughs quietly to herself, not looking at her professor. "How about we both just don't mention this to anyone?"

"Deal," Bo grins. She leans against the banister, her eyes fixed on the blonde.

Finally, Lauren turns her head and musters Bo fully. Her elbows stay propped on the railing, her chin resting in her left hand. She has to look up a bit. Their eyes meet, though, and keep staring into each other for longer than Lauren usually allows. Bo thinks she can see something unusual in them, maybe an explanation for Lauren being up here. She's not someone to lightly break rules. There has to be a good reason why Bo found her on the roof.

For a couple of seconds Bo pats her pockets for a lighter. She frowns slightly, not looking away from her student. She keeps the cigarettes for an emergency like this, but she hasn't thought of matches.

The curve of Lauren's mouth turns upwards. She takes her hands off the banister and straightens herself. With a mischievous glint in her eyes she pulls a slim lighter out of the pocket of her coat. It's a pretty, silver one.

Without hesitating or offering it to Bo, she turns to her and bends forward, forming a shield with her other hand around the lighter and the cigarette between Bo's lips. The brunette holds her breath, slightly leaning in. She doesn't look at the cigarette, though. Lauren's face is simply too distracting. Bo hasn't had the opportunity yet to study it from a position as close as this. And she could stay here like this for a very long time. Suddenly, she doesn't feel as cold anymore.

The wind is getting stronger. It plays with Lauren's hair and blows the small, flickering flame out again. She clicks the lighter again, with the same result. Her brows furrow and she steps even closer. Bo brings her hands up as well. She helps her, brushing Lauren's fingers in the process. Three hands are enough to protect the lighter against the wind. Eventually, the flame licks around the end of the cigarette. Bo's first pull is deep, and softens the hard lines around her mouth that formed during her last conversation with Tamsin and Dyson. The fire between her fingers kindles her own energy again. It's pulsing slowly, but growing stronger.

Sadly, though, it also disperses Lauren's scent of wild honey and replaces it with ash.

The smoke spirals upwards and vanishes instantly against the bleak sky that's spanned like a heavy blanket above them.

Lauren smiles at her, her gaze finally wandering up across Bo's face to meet her eyes. Their hands are still almost interlocked between their mouths.

Bo's hands don't drop to her side. Instead one of them plucks the cigarette from her mouth. Slowly, she turns her head to the side to exhale. For once, the unwritten laws of smoking seem to be in her favour, since the grey fume is not drifting towards the non-smoker but over the metal railing.

Then Lauren's closeness causes Bo to act without thinking again. With the other hand she brushes a golden strand from Lauren's cheek behind her ear. It feels soft to her touch, and suddenly she has an overwhelming urge to bury her fingers completely in her hair. The blonde freezes, her hands still not even an inch away from Bo's face, ignoring the fact that the cigarette is already gone from between them. She's staring intensely at Bo. Emotions are flickering in her hazel brown eyes, but the older woman can't place them.

Becoming aware of what she just did Bo clears her throat, and steps away.

It takes her an enormous amount of self-control. But in the end the thought of inadvertently breaking whatever bond there is developing between them suffices to make her rethink being this close.

This is exactly what she wanted to avoid, after all.

Lauren's hands drop as well. The lighter vanishes in her pocket. Like Bo she turns to the railing again, resuming the same position she was in when Bo stepped out on the roof.

Both of them stare down at the campus, side by side. The building is quite high, and they can see a lot. Students are hurrying along the concrete pavement from building to building. Most of them wear beanies or hoods, some even carry umbrellas, although it's not raining. Not yet. The few trees scattered over the campus and their field of vision have lost their leaves already. They sway softly from side to side, stretching their black branches to the bleak sky.

"So," Lauren clears her throat as well and says, "I've never noticed that you smoke."

"I don't," Bo says lightly, blowing the grey fume into the cold air. "I've stopped years ago."

"Ah. That explains a lot."

Bo laughs softly. "Sometimes I just need a break from everything. Then I come up here. But I rarely take my cigarettes with me. You've caught me on a very bad day." She takes another drag, closely watched by Lauren. "I'll stop if it bothers you."

"No, not at all. Please, carry on."

Bo notices how she glances over and her eyes linger on the cigarette. Slowly, a smug grin starts tugging Bo's lips. "Don't tell me you want one, too," she says.

Lauren's eyes flicker back up to meet hers. "God, no. I just never imagined you smoking."

"And now you can't take your eyes off of me," Bo smirks. "Don't tell anyone you've seen me, though."

"Afraid of what your colleagues might think?"

"Oh, no. To be honest I've stopped thinking about their opinion a very long time ago. And it's not like I'm doing anything illegal."

"Don't tell me you actually enjoy the taste."

"It's more than a taste; it's a feeling."

"Of combustion between your fingertips? And cancer in your lungs?" Lauren sounds amused.

"It's as close as we can possibly get to what Prometheus must have felt," Bo smirks, faking a condescending tone while she taps her glowing cigarette against the railing.

Lauren rolls her eyes but her crooked smile gives away how much she fights laughing out.

"Don't start," Bo continues in a patronizing tone. She waves her cigarette playfully, "it's actually my worst habit."

"Then why did you start?"

"It didn't seem that bad, I guess. But stopping is the problem."

"It's hard to find the right moment, I suppose."

"Exactly."

"So, if it's this personal, why don't you want anyone to know about it?"

At this point Bo starts wondering what they are actually talking about. So she decides to cut short and remove any ambiguities.

"I have bet going with Tamsin since we stopped together. The first one who starts again owes the other a huge amount of money, and three wishes."

Lauren snorts, staring down at the campus again. "Sounds like college."

Bo nods, grinning as well. She's fond of these memories. College was the first time she was truly independent and free to do whatever she wanted to. That was also when she became friends with Tamsin, in her last year. The blonde was already in training of becoming a detective. They met in a student bar, both of them unbelievably drunk, and started hitting ridiculously on each other. They actually ended up on Bo's couch, but passed out before they even had the chance to take off their boots.

When they woke up with the worst hangover of the year (and probably a lot of alcohol left in their blood) Bo dared Tamsin to run for an hour with her, and that was that, really.

"Who is Tamsin?" Lauren asks now, biting her lip.

"A friend of mine, from the FBI."

"Oh, was that the blonde woman from the restaurant the other day?"

Bo chuckles to herself. She must have left quite an impression. "Yes. From time to time we run together. She's a close friend." Then her face drops, though. For a split second she has the absurd idea of asking about that waitress. There's still a sour taste in her mouth whenever she remembers her. Bo sighs, and tries for the hundredth time to get rid of this feeling. In vain, of course. So she just stops thinking about her, by taking another drag of her cigarette. She almost forgot about it.

Lauren falls silent again. Despite the vast amount of unaddressed issues arising between them like flowers in spring, it's not awkward or tense. On the contrary, it's feels calm and relaxed. Still, it bothers Bo and she has a hard time working out why. But in the end she does understand the reason. Turns out, she just likes listening to Lauren's voice more.

"So, how come you carry a lighter around?" Bo asks.

"Oh, that," Lauren laughs. "When I was still at med school we used to have biochemistry labs. I bought it for the Bunsen burners, and never got rid of it again."

"Did you want to become a physician?" There is genuine curiosity in Bo's voice.

"Yes, until I dropped out last winter." Lauren's tone and the way she avoids Bo's eyes, though, makes it clear that she doesn't want to talk about it.

Bo senses it. So she changes her tactic. The fragments about herself Lauren hands her from time to time present a puzzle Bo desperately wants to solve.

"Why did you move here?" She asks casually, finally stubbing out her cigarette on the banister, simultaneously with her excuse for being up here. She chooses to stay, though.

"To Boston?" Lauren asks back.

"To the US. Why did you leave England?"

"I didn't have a choice."

"You moved when you were seven, right?"

"Yes." Lauren clears her throat. There's a smile on her lips because Bo remembered her exact age, but it's also somewhat lopsided, and sad.

"Sorry," Bo says soothingly, "I didn't want to pry. We can talk about something else."

She firmly expects Lauren to say something about her reducing the tutorials. She doesn't, though.

"No, it's okay," Lauren answers with a frown. Then her expression clears again, she visibly makes a decision. In an utterly monotonous voice she adds "Shortly after my mum passed away my father was offered a job in the US, and he took it." She looks down at her hands as if she was talking about a particularly boring holiday. "He worked too much, though. Two years later he succumbed to the consequences of a heart attack. I grew up with my aunt and uncle. They still get a Christmas card from me every year."

_Shit,_ Bo thinks. Repeatedly. She hit the wrong spot. All her psychological training for situations like this drops out of her mind at the unexpectedness of Lauren's revelation.

Bo shouldn't have pushed. "I –"

"It's fine," Lauren says lightly. Finally, she looks up again. "That was a long time ago."

With a last glance over the campus she adds "It's getting cold, and I have a lecture in fifteen minutes. I think I'll go over my notes from last time."

Bo has the sudden urge to put her own coat around Lauren's shoulders. Instead she nods, understanding her student's wish to escape right now, and says "See you this afternoon in my office, at the same time as always?"

Lauren smiles and confirms their first tutorial in two weeks. When she leaves Bo leaning on the railing, Bo follows her with her eyes. She's pretty sure that Lauren is not as calm about her parents as she has pretended to be, but Bo won't bring that topic up again.

…

Bo has only one lecture left as well. She hasn't much time to relax before Lauren comes, though. As soon as she's back from it, finally sitting in her office again, the phone rings. Bo cradles it between her shoulder and ear, flipping through a pile of assignments on her desk.

"We found him," Tamsin exclaims before Bo has a change to say hello.

"He was caught on site with his latest victim, too drunk to stagger away," Dyson's voice adds.

They're in the car, Bo realizes.

"Hi you two," she says, "Oh yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking. And how are you?"

"Come on, Bo, we have good news," Tamsin answers.

"What are you talking about?"

"We found the guy who's responsible for those six deaths and the severely injured seventh guy."

"What happened?"

"We were patrolling –" Dyson starts.

"We had nothing else to do," Tamsin throws in.

"We were patrolling," her partner continues, "when we were called to a fight in a bar. Or rather, behind a bar. A bank accountant had tried to smash the brain out of a six feet one tall, black haired, athletic guy. Sounds familiar?"

"It does," Bo answers. Her throat becomes dry again.

"You won't have to write your report anymore. The attacker confessed already."

Bo closes her eyes, and sighs deeply. She was hoping for something like this. Looking at dead people and coroner's reports is definitely not going to be something she enjoys about her new job.

As happy as she is about the development of the events right now she does want to know whether her theory was right.

"Is there anyone among his colleagues, neighbours or even friends who looks like the victims?"

"Yes and no," Dyson says. "It's his father."

"Oh." Bo's face falls. She is visibly shaken by his words. "Oh my god. That's _horrible_."

"His father fits the description perfectly. The suspect also reacted badly to me mentioning him. We're pretty sure their relationship triggered his aggression."

"How did he get like that? What did his father do to him?"

"We don't know," Tamsin answers.

"How are you going to find out?"

"Not at all. We will probably never know. It's our job to stop him, not to figure out his life story," Dyson says.

"How can you say that? His own father! There has to be a backstory."

"Bo," Dyson says mildly. "Let the emotions at home."

Bo clenches her teeth at the implied warning. She's about to bite back that Dyson is not in any position to tell her how to do her job when her phone starts beeping again.

"There is someone on the other line. Can we talk later?"

"Sure," Tamsin says. "See you later."

"Bye, Bo," Dyson adds before the phone clicks and the line goes dead.

Bo sighs deeply, and hits another button. "Dennis?" She asks into her phone.

"Hello, Bo," a dark voice purrs, "how nice to speak to you again."

"Evony, what a pleasure," Bo replies, immediately sitting up straight. She has no idea what Marquise wants from her. They haven't spoken since that dinner a few weeks ago.

"Busy with work, I guess?"

"Sort of. But I can always squeeze you in my schedule. How can I help you?"

Evony laughs, rich and vibrant. Bo can almost hear the smirk on her face. "I was wondering whether you could tell me how our little arrangement proceeds."

"Shouldn't Hale keep you up to date about my profiling?"

Evony's tone drops into ice water. "Hale is a toddler throwing a tantrum because he broke his favourite toy," she sneers.

Bo laughs huskily at the outbreak. Seems like they put up a real fight.

Immediately, Evony snaps back into her old voice. "I am confident that a closer cooperation between the two of us would be to our mutual benefit."

"Do you want me to give you special reports?"

"One could say that. There is a meeting at your department today and I do not yet have the information I need."

Bo's eyes start to glint dangerously. This is beginning to get interesting. "And what can I have in return?"

It's Evony's time to laugh.

…

Lauren is punctual, as usual. She drops her bag by the door and falls into her chair, smiling only faintly at Bo. "What have you got for me today?"

Bo arches an eyebrow at her, but pushes Lauren's last essay and a reading list for her next one across the desk without a comment.

Lauren picks it up and starts studying Bo's scribbled notes on the margin. Her professor watches her for a long moment, studying the dip at the base of her throat, and finally sets to her own stuff as well. Working alongside each other has always come easy to both of them. They'll discuss the essay later, after Lauren has thoroughly studied it and a chapter from a textbook Bo has prepared for her. For now they exchange only short questions and even briefer answers.

By the time Bo looks up again, the late afternoon has turned into an early evening. It's already getting dark outside. Lauren has curled up on her seat, with her hair open again. Now she pushes her book away. "Okay, enough. What's going on?"

Bo frowns. Lauren doesn't mean the overall situation, she's smart enough not to ask about that, but the way Bo has stretched and fidgeted and drummed her pen on the table in the last thirty minutes. The only time she didn't do something like that was when she was looking at Lauren. Bo has really tried to make sure that her agitation doesn't show, though, most of all because she can't really explain it, apart from the gruesome FBI story. She's about to brush off Lauren's comment, until she sees her more than mildly concerned expression. So Bo sighs, and mutters simply "BAU."

Lauren crosses her arms. "That FBI business, right?"

"Yes. It's…" Bo's voice trails off.

Lauren doesn't push. She doesn't look away either, though, so Bo finishes meekly "it's tiring."

"Is it that much extra work?" Her student asks softly.

"No. The content is just heavy. Sometimes I think I'm not able to handle it all."

"Oh," Lauren mutters, not knowing what to say. "Can't you opt out somehow?"

"Or I might just drop some other college responsibilities," Bo utters darkly. She says it more to the paper in front of her than to Lauren, but her answer makes her look up.

"Does that mean you'll have even less time to teach me?" Lauren asks, a strange mixture of sympathy and fear written on her face. She wants Bo to feel better but dreads the prospect of losing her completely as a tutor.

Bo smiles softly about her reaction. "That's not what I meant. I wouldn't want that, not at all."

Lauren tilts her head to the side. "Even though you've cut down these tutorials to about a quarter of their former number?"

Bo bites her lip. "You still get enough assignments from me, you just have to read and write more on your own."

"I learn more with you, though," Lauren insists stubbornly.

Bo sighs. She knows that her arguments are very shaky. But she can't tell Lauren that she's afraid of doing something stupid since the moment she saw her in that restaurant.

"Besides, I don't have access to all the books I need."

Bo blinks. "Really?"

"Yes, some are in the closed stacks..."

"And as a first year student you aren't allowed in," Bo finishes her sentence thoughtfully.

Lauren nods.

Bo draws her finger across the desk between them, a mischievous light starting to glint in her eyes. "Well," she drawls. "I'm not a freshman."

Lauren lifts her eyebrows. "Obviously."

Bo laughs. It's a stupid idea but she suggests it nonetheless. "And I have access to every room in this building. I could go downstairs with you and hand out the books to you."

"That's not allowed. You shouldn't even have a key to the library."

"I'm a professor in this department. They can hardly kick me out."

Slowly, a smirk starts to spread across Lauren's face as well.

…

The tension falls from Bo's back muscles as if it had never been there in the first place. A few minutes later the two women walk down an empty corridor two floors below Bo's office. It feels a bit eerie, since almost all lights are already switched off and their steps echo through the whole hallway. They're on the library's floor. Bo let them in with a spare key and a smug grin.

"Mrs. Liddy is going to rip my head off if she finds out," she whispers, moving quietly at Lauren's side.

"The librarian? She doesn't like me either, since she caught me with a snickers in the sitting area of the psychology section," Lauren admits in an equally low voice.

"Oh yes, she hates students who eat in there."

"Or drink. Or breathe. Or behave like a normal human being for that matter," Lauren adds dryly.

Bo laughs.

That's when they hear faint voices from around the next corner. Bo's hand shoots out, immediately finding Lauren's wrist.

Hale, Evony, Dyson and Tamsin are here tonight, for an official meeting, and the conference room is on this floor as well- The sudden realization rushes as an adrenaline wave through Bo's whole body. And her colleagues are moving into their direction. They're just a few feet away, probably because they want to leave the library's floor on the same way Bo and Lauren just entered.

"We shouldn't be here, should we?" Lauren asks, stopped dead in her tracks.

Against all reason, Bo giggles, her hand dropping to her side again. "Nope. Maybe it's smarter to take another way."

They turn on their heels, and walk back the way they've come, at a somewhat faster pace.

The sound of footsteps and agitated voices follow them, though. They sound angry, like they've been arguing, and move fast.

"What would happen if they see us?"

"We would have to explain what we're doing here, and even worse I would probably have to hand in my master key. Which I really shouldn't be in possession of," Bo answers.

They don't really break into a run, but dart down another hallway. Lauren throws a glance over her shoulder and starts to giggle as well. It feels like they're teenagers, caught in the act of smuggling themselves into a cinema without buying a ticket. Bo flashes a toothy grin at her.

They're already close to the last door to the staircase again, but it's at the far end of the hallway. By the time they would reach it Hale and his companions would have walked around the corner as well. And the two women would be in full view.

So, halfway down the hallway, Bo makes a decision.

The distinct sound of footsteps in her ear, Lauren finally realizes as well that they're already very close to being caught. But she doesn't get any time to process it. Bo's immediate reaction catches her completely off guard. With one fluent movement Bo closes her fingers around her forearm. Lauren would freeze on the spot but Bo draws her into the first unlocked room she can find and closes the door behind them.

"I say we let them walk past us," she whispers into Lauren's ear.

It's a tiny store room, or more of a supply closet. Stacks of paper towels, cleaning agents and plastic boxes are piled on the shelves at the walls around them. They leave almost no space to stand between them. Lauren doesn't really see them, though, with Bo this close to her.

It's almost pitch black. The only light falls in through the narrow gap underneath the door, barely illuminating their shoes. Bo's eyes glint, though. Her hand is still tightly wrapped around Lauren's wrist, and the blonde is sure that she must feel her racing pulse underneath her fingertips. They're soft and warm against her skin.

"Wha-" Lauren begins, but before she can open her mouth fully Bo interrupts her.

"Quiet," she whispers, looking at the door as if to ascertain whether they're still undiscovered. The voices outside are drawing closer.

"I don't think –" Lauren starts again. But this time Bo cuts her off more effectively.

Without as much as glancing at her, she presses her free hand against Lauren's lips.

Shadows and voices move past the door. Lauren doesn't hear them, her eyes wide in surprise. Her chest heaves visibly as she takes a deep breath around Bo's fingers. They're gentle, and incredibly soft.

The people outside on the hallway walk past their hideout. Ever so slowly, their low voices fade out again. But both women don't really listen to them anymore. Bo's head turns back to Lauren. She's smirking, and Lauren can't tear her eyes off her lips. Their faces are mere inches apart.

Slowly, Bo's hand drops off Lauren's mouth, and if she hadn't stopped herself in the last second, Lauren would have followed the movement and leant forward. Instead, she attempts to focus again and takes deep breath of fresh air that doesn't taste like Bo, trying to figure out how exactly the simple tutorial, even though it was bristling with an unspoken dilemma, led them into this supply closet, almost pressed chest to chest.

Bo's pupils dilate visibly. Her tongue flicks out for a split second to lick her lips. Her other hand is still gently closed around Lauren's wrist. If it wasn't it would probably start to tremble lightly.

Lauren's heart is hammering so loud she's sure her eardrums must burst any second now. Her eyes flicker up and down from Bo's mouth to her eyes, and she would look like a startled deer in headlights if it wasn't for the yearning in her gaze.

But Bo is the one who initiates it. Her hand, still lightly on Lauren's wrist, slowly wanders up over her arm. She can feel Lauren's body heat through the blouse she's wearing. Bo tilts forward, her lips slightly parted. It's no surging movement, but a careful leaning in.

Lauren holds her gaze until Bo is less than an inch away.

Then her head dips to the side, just as Bo is about to close the remaining gap between their mouths.

Lauren dashes out of the storage room faster than Bo can blink.

Her head is swirling. Its pure chance that sends her hurrying in the opposite direction of where the others have just gone, and not right after them. Lauren doesn't notice how her legs carry her out of the building, into the night. She has to walk for an hour to feel them again, and for another to start thinking.

...

Bo brings both her hands up, presses her forearms against the shelf, and presses her forehead against them. Then she groans.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: As always, thank you all so much for your follows, favourites, and especially reviews!

VI

For longer than she cares to keep track of, Lauren is lying on her back in her bed. Her face is buried underneath a pillow she is shutting the world out with. She's only pulled out of her thoughts when Kenzi bangs on the door. "Lauren? I know you're in there!"

The blonde growls something into the pillow, her voice muffled by the fabric.

Kenzi bangs against the door again, this time with her flat hand. "It's getting late!"

Lauren pulls the pillow away, blinking into the sudden light. "I said turn the doorknob. It's open."

Her friend doesn't need a third invitation. Immediately she bursts into the room. "We'll miss the tequila if you don't get going!"

"I said I'd think about coming. And now I don't think I will."

Kenzi smirks, putting her hands on her hips, "_I _think you're wrong there. Pete has this giant house and he's throwing a party only like once a year. We're not going to miss it."

"Go ahead, Kenz. I'm not stopping you."

"Exactly. You're going with me. This is probably the last chance to get you out anyways. I bet you'll start your revision for finals next week already."

Lauren simply groans once more and covers her face with the pillow again. She hears her friend shuffle closer to the bed, and one second later she feels it shift slightly as Kenzi drops her small body right next to her.

"Hey doc, I can see that something is off," Kenzi says, her tone more serious. "What's wrong?"

Lauren just grumbles something incoherently.

She shouldn't have done that, though, because in the next second Kenzi's fingers are all over her sides, tickling her so skilfully she doesn't even have time to yank the pillow away before she starts to shriek. Kenzi is a master at this. Lauren throws herself from side to side, pushing pillows away and disarranging the blanket while she desperately tries to escape from Kenzi's hands. She alternates from crying with laughter and gasping for breath. Her dark mood is gone in that instant.

"Stop it," she cries.

The black haired girl is laughing as well. Her fingers are digging into Lauren's sides no matter how fast she spins around or tries to slap them away. Instead, Kenzi insists "Say please."

"Please, stop it, Kenz, stop it! I'll even come with you, just stop!"

Finally, Kenzi has mercy and ends torturing her friend. "See, it wasn't that hard."

Lauren sits up, trying to catch her breath. "I'll get my revenge for that."

"Sure," Kenzi smirks, "but not if I'm faster again."

Lauren glares at her, trying to fix her hair. "What was that for, anyways?"

Kenzi gets serious again. "Come on, something's bothering you. If you don't want to talk that's fine, but too much brooding can be bad you know."

Lauren falls back on the bed again. "Yes." She takes a deep breath. "It's just that something happened and I have no idea how to react."

Kenzi raises her eyebrows. "Wow, that's specific."

Lauren huffs.

"Was it a good or a bad something?"

"I don't know," Lauren answers honestly. "That's the problem."

"Oh my," Kenzi says with exaggerated shock, clutching her heart. "You don't know?! These three words coming from your mouth? I didn't think I would live to see the day!"

Involuntarily Lauren has to grin. "Very funny, Kenz."

"At least you're smiling again."

"Thanks," Lauren says, while sitting up again. "If you so desperately want to know, someone tried to kiss me, and now I'm more than confused about it. I'm shocked."

Kenzi claps her hands together and starts to giggle. "I knew you got game."

This time Lauren does roll her eyes. "It's not like that. And no, before you ask, you don't know her. It's complicated."

"Well, did you like it? I mean, did you kiss back?"

"No. I panicked and ran away, actually."

"Sounds like something you would do." Kenzi tilts her head to the side. Lauren notices that despite dying to know she doesn't ask for the reasons of her flight, and Kenzi knows that Lauren picks that up, and for that Lauren is even more thankful. That's a conversation for later. Kenzi's next words startle her, though. "Somehow I still get the feeling, that you wanted to stay and would have enjoyed it very much."

"Beg your pardon?"

"You wouldn't lay here and wallow in denial and self-pity if this mysterious woman hadn't put some sort of spell on you," she grins.

Lauren glares at her, her lips one tight line. Kenzi is making way too much sense for her taste. She should just brush off the incident. It was already two day ago, and clearly just spurred by the moment. Luckily she didn't have any classes or tutorials with Bo. Lauren shouldn't be thinking so hard about it. "She hasn't. She just chose a very bad moment to act. I wasn't expecting it. To be honest, her behaviour in the last few weeks was indicating the exact opposite. And now I don't know what to do."

Kenzi props her elbows up on her knees and puts her chin on her folded hands, staring at Lauren with big blue eyes. "Are you sure you wouldn't have enjoyed it?"

"That's not the point."

"I think it's exactly what you're so worried about," Kenzi grins. "And how can you know if you don't have a go at it?"

Lauren fidgets, gesticulating, trying to come up with an adequate response. "No, I – I mean, that's not… It wasn't -"

Kenzi cuts her off with a knowing look, though, before Lauren can embarrass herself further. "Whatever it is, I'm sure the party will distract you. Everyone is going. And we both don't have classes until eleven tomorrow, which means that you could get some sleep afterwards."

Lauren sighs deeply. A little distraction wouldn't hurt right now. All of her carefully built up walls of denial are starting to crumble under Kenzi's scrutiny. Truth is, she has absolutely no idea of how to handle what happened between her and Bo, and she dreads their next meeting. "Maybe you're right," she admits quickly before her thoughts can trail off to that night again.

"I'm always right, that's why we're so good friends," Kenzi replies sweetly.

Lauren rolls her eyes but has to grin nonetheless. "When does it start?"

"Bruce texted me to come about half an hour ago. So get ready and we can get going right away."

For the first time Lauren takes a proper look at what Kenzi is wearing. "It's not fancy, though, is it?"

Melodramatically, Kenzi tilts her head back and groans. "Lauren, seriously, how did you survive your first years at college without me?"

Before Lauren can defend herself, Kenzi jumps up from the bed, hurries to the large wardrobe, and starts rummaging in it. "But don't worry, I'm here now, and I'll find you something to wear."

…

They arrive at Pete's house about forty-five minutes later. It's almost nine already, and the music is blasting across half the campus. All windows are open, people are standing outside, and some are already ridiculously drunk.

It's a nice house, on the edge of the campus, with two floors and a lot of space to hang out or dance. No one really knows how Pete can afford it as a third year law student, but most people think his parents sponsor him. Kenzi and Lauren make their way up to the front door, looking for its infamous owner. But it's so crowded they're almost sure that they won't find him. So they decide to get drinks first, giggling all the way to the kitchen about the drinking games in the hallway. Lauren knows some of the people there, but not too many. Kenzi, however, seems to have befriended her entire course plus their social circles. She greets and nods and laughs in every direction while Lauren smiles politely at the friendly faces she can't really name.

Turns out, there is a lot of alcohol. As she soon happily realizes Kenzi doesn't have to fear about running out of tequila this night.

The kitchen is packed with people who want the same or got stuck there. It's quite big with a gigantic fridge, an oven that would make a five star cook jealous, and an Italian coffee machine bigger than the dishwasher in the kitchen area of her student hall. Kenzi pours two drinks for them into glasses she has magically procured from somewhere. Lauren is watching her when she feels a hand slide up her back. Kenzi made Lauren wear a sleeveless black dress that leaves a diamond-shaped area of skin between her shoulder blades free, which is exactly where the hand comes to rest. A familiar voice speaks right into in Lauren's ear.

"Hi there! You're here too?"

It's Crystal, smiling at her broadly.

"Hey," Lauren greets back. She turns around to face her.

Kenzi sees the Economics student as well and says hi while shoving a glass into Lauren's hand. Then she excuses herself to find Bruce, leaving Crystal and Lauren standing by the stacked bottles. Scraps of other guests' conversation waver past them.

"Do you have a drink already?" Lauren asks.

Crystal nods, raising a red plastic cup in her right hand. "Only diet coke, though. I need to get up early tomorrow."

"Very responsible," Lauren teases, while they make their way back to the living room. Snacks are supposed to be in there somewhere.

Crystal smirks back. "Just too many bad experiences, to be honest. I've learnt my lesson."

"It doesn't seem like a good idea to throw a party in the middle of the week anyways."

"Well, there are quite a few other things going on at the weekend already. And at this time of the term, with the finals close but not too close, no one cares anymore anyways."

Lauren nods and takes a sip from her glass. She frowns immediately.

Crystal laughs again. "See what I mean?"

"Yes, that's very strong indeed."

"Don't worry, Kenzi isn't trying to get you drunk, these drinks are just made that way."

"She probably isn't," Lauren murmurs, taking another sip. "Well, I hope not. So, why are you surprised to see me here?"

"I wasn't expecting you to be honest. Normal college parties like this don't seem to be your favourite way to spend your time."

"Well, if the company is good," Lauren cracks a smile, "I can be persuaded."

Crystal grins back. "Then I'll do my best to make sure that I see you more often on occasions like this. I really like your dress, by the way."

In that moment two students wearing red muscle shirts and paper crowns push past them, yelling something about a bet. Lauren laughs and pulls Crystal out of possible harm's way, since the two guys carry dangerously full plastic cups containing a non-identifiable liquid. The music is blasting in her ears. Before she realizes it, Lauren is sucked into the whirlwind of students enjoying their youth – or lack of exams at the moment - around her.

From then on, the rest of the night happens in somewhat of a blur.

Kenzi pops up sporadically. She even warns her once or twice not to drink too much, but the mixing going on at the party is just a little too skilfully made, the cocktails are just a hint too sweet to resist, and Crystal too eager to refill her glass.

And Lauren almost starts to believe that she isn't here to forget her almost-kiss with Bo.

…

As might be expected, it turns out to be a very stupid plan.

The blurriness and scattered focus extends to the next morning, magnified by at least a hundredfold.

When Lauren blinks, disoriented, and tries to figure out where she is she makes the mistake to open her eyes fully. Blinding headache sets in immediately. It feels like someone tries to bash out her brain with something like a foghorn hooting at full volume. She groans loudly.

That's when, through the mist of her clouded mind, she realizes that she's not lying in her bed.

She's lying on the floor. Not sure which one, though.

That worries her somewhat. Ignoring the excruciating pain, or hoping that it will end sooner if she faces it now, Lauren blinks again and sits up. Dizziness gets hold of her and her hands shoot out to steady her, even though she's still only sitting. Her left hand, though, finds resistance which feels like a bed frame. She clings to it, and waits for the world to stop spinning.

Finally, her eyes adjust to the light and she can take in her surroundings.

She's in Kenzi's room, on the floor, curled up on one of Kenzi's spare blankets. She's still wearing the dress from last night, but only one shoe. The other one lays by the door, she notices perplexedly.

And worst of all, she has no recollection of how she got there.

The last thing she remembers is sitting on the couch in one of the upstairs bedrooms of Pete's house, and very drunkenly telling Crystal an embarrassing story of how she managed to get banned from all science competitions at her high school, using only one afternoon's worth of scrapyard findings.

And then nothing.

Her head turns around. Luckily at least Kenzi seemed to have managed to find her bed. She's even wearing her pyjamas.

Lauren prods her side until she moans with protest. "Kenzi?"

The black haired girl doesn't move one inch, but grimaces without opening her eyes. "I'm asleep."

Lauren shakes her shoulder again. Kenzi murmurs something incoherently into her pillow. Lauren has seen her hung-over a couple of times already, but this particular one doesn't seem to be too hard, at least for Kenzi.

Lauren isn't sure whether she had one like this ever before, though.

"Kenzi, what on earth happened?"

The black-haired girl groans again, before answering "I think you put me into bed and passed out on my floor? I tried to persuade you to go to your room but you wouldn't move."

"Oh my god." Lauren rubs her temples. That seems like something she would do, even if she was worse off than her friend. And now the pain in her back repays her for her altruism.

Kenzi stirs again. "Turn out the light, it's burning my eyes."

"I can't, it's the sun outside."

Somehow Kenzi manages to throw her pillow at the window. Lauren ducks with a delay off about two whole seconds. It bounces off the glass, uselessly, and falls to the floor. Kenzi groans again, turning to the other side in an attempt to return into some form of darkness.

"Oh my god." Lauren racks her brains over the end of last night. But she has no recollections whatsoever. She frowns, the realization dawning on her. Alcohol-induced amnesia. "I blacked out completely."

There comes a noise from Kenzi that resembles chuckling.

"That has never happened to me before!" Lauren exclaims aghast. Ten different recognized causes and accompanying symptoms are already rushing through her mind, increasing her headache. She struggles to her feet, pulling herself up on Kenzi's leg which is hanging over the edge of her bed. It evokes a muffled protest from her. Lauren ignores that, though, staggering on to the small mirror hanging on the wall. The sour taste in her mouth is disgusting.

And she looks horrible. "Oh my god," she groans again. Her mind is literally blank on the last hour of her night. She can't have missed much more than that.

"You don't have any aspirin, do you?" Her friend calls from the bed.

Unwisely, Lauren shakes her head, and squirms immediately at the returning dizziness. There is definitely a little alcohol left in her system.

"Could you get some?" Kenzi asks, stretching out her leg to nudge Lauren's knee.

"I'm in a very fragile condition don't touch me," Lauren answers, slurred.

Kenzi chuckles throatily. "I think you had great fun yesterday."

Lauren mind is spinning again, and this time because she's trying to come up with an explanation for her behaviour. Normally she's the responsible one, never drinking too much if at all. Seems like Crystal overachieved, her plan to introduce Lauren to drinking rituals is definitely questionable in retrospect.

But Lauren complied, and she knows exactly why. One stupid incident and she's lost all self-control. It's not like she planned to get absolutely wasted because of it, but it definitely caused her inhibition threshold to implode. And she and Bo didn't even kiss.

Lauren is about to fully wake up Kenzi to ask her about what she knows about yesterday evening when she throws a look at her wrist watch. "_Shit."_

In the next second she hurries out of Kenzi's room, into her own, grabs everything she needs for the shower, and walks there as fast as her legs, still weak, allow. If she doesn't want to be late for the first class she has to be finished in twenty minutes. Her mind goes on autopilot.

Miraculously, she manages it. It's close, but she does.

She spends the whole time from her room to the classroom worrying about the time period she can't remember from the previous evening. She even checks her phone, but it has run out of battery at some point. That's either very good, because if that happened before she started drinking it could have prevented her from doing something stupid, or very, _very _bad because she also could have drained the battery by doing something stupid in the first place.

The blackout starts quite late, though. She can still remember the vast majority of the night. At least that what she thinks. She has never had to deal with a problem like that. A tiny part of herself finds it quite interesting – the fascination of witnessing something she has only ever read about before. The bigger portion of her thoughts circle around the mystery of what happened in the missing time, though. She has to find Crystal and ask her.

She isn't even afraid that she humiliated herself completely. Lauren was never driven towards overly reckless behaviour when she was drunk, or at least overly reckless for her standards, some of her alcohol related stories must seem strange to others – but on the other hand she has never experienced a black-out either.

It's just worrying not to know what she did.

…

Taking a seat in a row unusually far in the back of the room, she asks one of her classmates whether she can borrow his phone. He does, and she sends Crystal a quick, non-descriptive email that will hopefully result in some clarifications.

Then she hands it back, looking up to check whether the teacher is there yet.

She nearly freezes in mid-air. That's when she realizes, as an ice cold bucket of water seems to be emptied over her head, that the class she's hurried into is held by Bo. Her mind has been on autopilot, not realizing to which class she has to be in right now. And even though Bo isn't here yet, it's too late to get out again. Lauren would risk running right into her on the hallway, which would be even more horrible.

So Lauren swallows, and mentally prepares herself for facing the actually far bigger problem than last night's escapade. Not that she is actually facing anything unusual, she's just sitting in a small class with other students after all, Lauren reminds herself. But the memory of Bo's lips so excruciatingly close to hers springs back to her mind and causes a hot shiver to run down her spine.

And then she has no idea what Bo will do. Lauren doesn't even want to think about possible consequences.

So Lauren pulls a sheet of paper and a pen out of her bag and, with effort, pretends to be prepared. And with a lot more effort, she drives the memory of Bo back into the back of her head.

A second later, her professor comes in. Lauren's attempts were completely in vain.

She was right, though, she would have run right into her arms if she had tried to escape the trap she has manoeuvred herself into. Originally she planned to skip her next class with Bo.

Then Lauren really looks at Bo.

Today, she doesn't stride in like she owns the place as usual. Instead, she's a thundercloud storming into the classroom. It's more than the usual amount of intimidation that follows her like a particularly dazzling trace of perfume. Her eyes are dark, and so furious they seem to emit sparks. She cranes her neck, her eyes flying across the assembled students, who instantaneously lapse into silence as if their conversations have been cut off with a knife. Then Bo's gaze settles back on her desk, where she drops her bag. Her jaw is clenched as if set in marble. She's wearing a black blazer and slacks as usual, but her hair is open and cascading down her back, tangled from too much agitated ruffling. Over the last few weeks Lauren has come to notice these little things, one by one.

Despite not sitting in her usual second row she sees them now, and recognizes that Bo is deeply upset about something. She's holding the reigns of her anger, but the way she throws her head back, her black hair shining in the sudden movement, gives away how enraged she must feel, just like she only shows her teeth instead of smiling to greet her students. Energetically Bo slides out of her blazer, and throws it over her chair before straightening her crisp white blouse. Lauren hasn't seen her like this before. And despite better judgement, she's fascinated by it.

Lauren bites her lip. Who is she fooling? Kenzi was right; she so desperately wanted to kiss her that night. She still wants to.

Bo flips through her notes. Everyone is looking at her expectantly. The noise of paper being shuffled, pages turned around and laptops being started fills the room.

Without glancing up, she starts the class. The coldness in her tone accentuates her stern voice. Usually she is gentle and easy-going with her students, but today seems to head into another direction. She speaks on and on, without letting her students answer questions or dropping the harsh tone. The anger seems to be driving her through the whole lecture.

But she controls it well. Apart from her fierce demeanour following her entrance, she remains quite calm and collected. She's icy instead of burning openly. It could be misread as simple bad mood. Lauren isn't sure whether anyone else in the room apart from her knows how to interpret this coldness.

The vast majority of her wants to leave as soon and as inconspicuously as possible, not just because her threatening behaviour right now, but also because of her last encounter which still poses a problem she hasn't solved yet. But there is also a tiny part that is drawn to Bo like a moth to the flame.

About ten minutes to the end of the lesson a guy in the third row has the bad fortune to run out of ink. Whispering he asks his neighbour for a new pen. But Bo hears him nonetheless. Her eyes narrow again. And then he's stupid enough to make a small joke. His friend chuckles. Lauren can't hear it, but Bo deems it disruptive enough to aim a small amount of anger at him.

"Miller, could you give me the precise definition of impression formation?" She asks. "The chapter you had to read for this class, if I may remind you."

"Uhm," he begins, obviously trying to buy time. That he has no idea about the theoretical aspects of the topic is written plainly on his face.

Before he can continue Bo cuts him off again by simply glaring at him until he stops stuttering. Then she snaps "Its two major theories?"

"I don't know."

"What's loss aversion?"

This time he doesn't even bother to answer. He just looks shamefully at his desk. The whole room is perfectly still, watching the drama unfold.

Bo's eyes darken, just as her voice drops dangerously low. She leans forward, putting her hands on her desk, and glares at him across the room. Through clenched teeth she hisses "Do you think your presence here is a joke, Miller?"

Lauren swallows. Bo only calls students she knows by their last name if she's really angry. And now she sounds more than that; she's pissed off. She looks feral, like a predator on the lookout for a fight. It's almost painful to watch Miller right now. He has absolutely no idea of how to react, and visibly shrinks under Bo's gaze. Even his neighbours seem to feel very uncomfortable.

Then Bo stops glaring at him. Her eyes flicker away. In the midst of the assembled students she singles out Lauren as easily as if she was glowing.

"Lewis?"

Lauren's head snaps up. She blinks. Her answer comes calmly and textbook-like, holding Bo's gaze. "Essentially it's social categorization theory, or how a global impression of an individual person is created by unifying and assimilating single pieces of information about said person. The cognitive algebra or Gestalt approach are the two known basic theories."

Maybe, just maybe, the corner of Bo's mouth is beginning to soften and curve upwards a little. But Lauren could easily be mistaken since she's so far away from her.

"And?"

"Pain associated with giving up a good is greater than the pleasure associated with obtaining it," Lauren says without missing a beat. She didn't even think before she blurted it out.

Bo nods, curtly but satisfied. She looks at Lauren for another second, then her head snaps back down to Miller and the eye contact between the two women is lost. "See what I mean? Read what I put on the reading lists."

Lauren tires to hold it back, but she can't prevent a smirk from spreading on her lips. Despite the possible complete destruction of their professional relationship between teacher and student, Bo still appreciates her intelligence, and doesn't ignore her.

That doesn't mean though, that Lauren doesn't try to sneak out of the classroom at the end of the class. She almost hides behind a cluster of other people, but Bo catches her before she can leave. She doesn't even look away from packing her notes when Bo addresses a question at her, her voice piercing easily through the low noise of conversations beginning around Lauren.

"Lewis, one word, would you?"

Lauren freezes, her notepad clutched to her chest, unable to look at her for a second. She really wanted to escape this. Or deny it altogether. Pretend that it never happened until she can figure out her own feelings. But then Lauren nods, and turns around. The last student hurries past her out of the door, throwing a curious look at her. Then they are alone. The door closes with a loudly resounding thump.

Slowly Lauren looks up. Now that she is close to her again, Lauren can see how fuming Bo really is.

She puts her hands on her hips, her fingers digging into the fabric of her skirt. "What the _hell, _Lauren?"

The blonde stares at her with confusion and worry. "I'm sorry?"

Bo pulls her phone out of her pocket and waves it. "Your call early in the morning!"

Suddenly, all colour fades from Lauren's face. She's still feeling a little weak, and she didn't get any breakfast of course, and now the realization that she _did _do something really stupid yesterday. Right now she wishes for ground to open and swallow her whole. She turns very pale, her mouth forming a silent o. And then "shit." She stares at Bo with horror.

Bo gave her the number for emergencies, if she had to cancel a tutorial unexpectedly for instance. Or to text her that she'd be late. Lauren had never called or texted Bo before, though, in fear of what doors that might open. She'd revelled in the possibility, though.

Now she just wants to hit her head against the closest wall, repeatedly.

"Well? What do you have to say about it?" Bo hisses.

"Oh my god. I'm terribly sorry."

Bo studies her closely with narrowed eyes for a moment, catching the trace of misery in Lauren's apology. She tilts her head to the side. The undertone of her voice changes slightly. "Were you drunk last night?"

Lauren grimaces. Her gaze drops to her boots. "Yes," she admits, shifting her weight helplessly from one side to the other. She doesn't know, though, what that question says about the call, or why Bo wasn't able to tell anyways.

Bo frowns and glares at her until Lauren feels like she's physically shrinking. "I am really sorry?"

Her professor gives her a last scrutinizing look. Then she sighs. The sound makes Lauren glance up again. With relief she sees that Bo's anger has begun to vanish. She smiles sheepishly and somewhat painfully at her. Lauren can practically watch the anger melt away.

Before she can open her mouth to mumble another apology, though, Bo steps forward. She seizes Lauren's elbow. Lauren is so taken aback that she doesn't put up any resistance when Bo marches out of the room, pulling the blonde with her. Lauren more or less stumbles along.

At first she thinks they're going to Bo's office. She's wrong, though.

Bo's hand leaves her elbow quite soon again, but she stays very close to her. Bo lets Lauren walk slightly in front of her, but their shoulders are nearly touching. She points out the direction every time Lauren is in doubt.

Lauren soon realizes that Bo is taking her out of the building. She shoots a questioning look at her, unwilling to address a direct question right now.

"There's a café around the corner," Bo says simply, without looking back at Lauren. Then she adds in a low voice since they're walking past a couple of other students "I think we have to talk."

…

The café is very quiet, very small, and hidden in a small alley Lauren would have never found on her own. The interior is nice, though, and almost all of the few tables are empty. They sit down in the last corner where they can speak undisturbed. Bo orders two cappuccinos, the way Lauren used to try making them with Bo's kettle and instant coffee.

Lauren takes a sip and stares at her across the rim of her cup.

Bo stirs her coffee. She holds Lauren's gaze until she starts fidgeting in her seat. "Okay. Me first then. I'm sorry about –" She waves vaguely with her hand "What happened two days ago."

Lauren takes a deep breath. Up until now, she was not one hundred per cent sure that Bo really tried to kiss her. "No need to apologize."

"Yes, there is. I really overstepped a line. I kind of tried to breach the rules of every teacher student relationship, and I apologize for that."

Lauren nods thoughtfully. "Okay. I'm sorry about my reaction."

Bo didn't look at her while she said the last few sentences but now her eyes flicker up to meet Lauren's again. She clutches her cup as if she has to prevent herself from reaching out to Lauren. "Please, don't be. You reacted perfectly fine."

Lauren glances down, stroking one strand of her hair behind her ear. In her hurry this morning she didn't bother with a ponytail. "You just surprised me. A lot. I still don't understand why you were doing that anyways."

Bo gives her a long speculating look, arching one eyebrow. "Seriously? I think you're self-perception skills need readjusting."

Lauren blinks in confusion. Was that just a compliment?

"So, I'm glad we resolved that," Bo says, clearing her throat. Her eyes start to glint again. "I knew attempting to kiss you was not a good idea but I'd say you overreacted."

Lauren, about to take another sip, nearly spills coffee all over her jeans. "Excuse me?"

"That call of yours nearly drove me crazy," Bo admits simply. Her dark eyes are full of amusement, though.

"Oh, that." Lauren blushes.

"Am I right if I assume that you can't remember anything?"

"Yes," Lauren mumbles uncomfortably into her coffee, too embarrassed to look at her.

"Does that happen often? You're not the type."

"No! Absolutely not! That was the first time, actually. It's horrible."

"I guess you should check with whom you drink. It didn't sound like your friends were discouraging you."

Lauren grimaces. "I still have headache, if that comforts you."

Bo laughs. "Well, you're a student, it's probably normal that you drink too much from time to time."

"You gave me good reason to," Lauren mumbles.

"I'm sorry?" Bo lifts her eyebrows.

"Nothing," Lauren smirks back. The smile tugging at her lips fills her chest with warmth. It just feels so natural to sit with Bo in a cosy little café, even though she's apologizing for behaving like a complete idiot.

Bo just looks at her with amusement.

"What did I say? When I called?"

Bo gives her a blinding smirk. "I'm not going to tell you that."

"What? Why?"

"I don't think you want to know."

"Oh god," Lauren groans.

Bo laughs. "It wasn't that bad. But close."

Lauren sighs, and ruffles through her hair. She screwed up badly. But at least Bo doesn't seem to be mad anymore. She contemplates whether she should press on, using the argument that she needs to know what she said if Bo doesn't want her to repeat the exact same words. But that would imply that she plans on calling Bo more often late at night.

"Lauren, let me be honest." Bo clears her throat. Her eyes wander over Lauren's face, down to her lips. They linger there for a moment before they drop to her cup again. There are so many things going through Bo's head right now, and somehow she wants them all to spill out in the open, in the space that is separating her and Lauren, to fill it up and bridge it. If she had to categorize them, she'd probably single out two main thoughts.

First of all, Lauren is kind-hearted, incredibly intelligent, and Bo wants her in her life, academic or otherwise, as simple as that. And Bo risked it for a foolish infatuation like this.

Secondly, Lauren is so beautiful right now it hurts.

Then her eyes flicker up again and their gazes meet, the intensity of Bo's driving the air out of Lauren's lungs.

"I really want you to feel comfortable around me, and I want to continue tutoring you. But I also want to be honest with you. And I'm afraid that's contradictory."

Lauren bites her lip. "Why is that?"

"Because," Bo looks her straight in the eye and licks her lips, "without any doubt, two days ago in that damn little storage cupboard I would have started an affair with you, and I wouldn't have any regrets about it either."


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Gosh, thank you all so much for your brilliant reviews! I feel really giddy :D

And I am so sorry for the long wait, I had a very stupid exam to prepare for. I'll try and make up for it though, the slow burn is definitely over…sort of.

VIII

For two seconds Lauren is too stunned to breathe. The suggestion that just came out of her professor's mouth sends a cascade of whirling thoughts and emotions and yearnings in Lauren's mind in motion. And as if that wasn't enough, Bo bites her lips in that excruciatingly mesmerizing way of hers, not knowing whether she just went a step too far. Lauren can't help but stare.

Then she blinks, and her brain starts working again.

Sort of.

She opens her mouth to answer, notices that she has absolutely no idea what to say, and shuts it again. Lauren knows exactly, what she wants to _do_ right now, though.

Underneath the table her fingers flex involuntarily, and reach for Bo, to graze her knee, or brush her leg, anything really, just to feel her. It's not so much making sure that she's really there or preserving the moment by clutching on to it, but a simple, human need for Bo. To be as close to her as possible. And Lauren knows that this need is bordering on something entirely non-innocent. Her heart-rate speeds up, her pupils dilate.

There is not much space separating them, and Bo has leant forward when she said the last words, her dark eyes locked intensely with the blonde's. Bo has inched forward as well, she's sitting on the edge of her chair. Lauren notices how the delicate line of her collarbones heaves in tension with every breath she takes. Bo's fingers cradle the coffee mug to keep herself from touching Lauren's face, unaware that the blonde has the same problem with her hands, just a few inches underneath Bo's and out of sight.

But in the end her fingertips brush only empty air, and Bo's stay wrapped around her hot beverage.

"For god's sake, say something, Lauren," Bo urges finally, somewhat breathless. The complete lack of any reaction scares her more than outright rejection.

Lauren swallows, and tears her eyes away from Bo's lips, up to her eyes again. "Your curveballs come out of nowhere," she states flatly. "You've left me literally speechless."

"Glad I could return the favour," Bo smirks, inappropriate pictures forming in her head, before her tone turns more serious again. "Sorry. It wasn't supposed to be a curveball. I just wanted you to know how I f–" she stops short, averting her eyes, and finishes with "what I think."

The blonde is still having trouble with finding the right words, so she settles for a non-descriptive "I appreciate your honesty."

Bo huffs. "I guess it's a good sign that you didn't stand up and run?"

The blonde nearly laughs out loud. "I suppose so."

"Lauren?" Bo asks, and there is something almost like vulnerability in her voice.

"Yes?"

"Would you return the favour? Be honest with me too? Because I don't know how long I can stand you looking at me like this unless I know what you're thinking."

Lauren bites her lip. She ruffles through her hair, averts her eyes, only to look at Bo a second later again. Her eyes are full of doubt, and her next question is heavy with exasperation. "What do you expect me to say to this?"

"Tell me what to do, Lauren."

"What do you mean?"

"My cards are on the table. If I misread you completely and you have no interest in me in that way, I'll respect it, and never bother you again."

"This is madness, Bo!" Lauren exclaims heatedly, startling the barista. Immediately, her voice drops to a whisper again. "We can't do this!"

It's almost invisible, but there's most definitely a spark in Bo's dark eyes. Almost coyly, she asks "There's a 'we'?"

Lauren stares at her for a moment. Her thoughts are swirling through her head. It feels like she's been hit by a mental tornado. Bo's question is loaded with way more than she can handle right now. Finally, Lauren mutters "Why did you have to make this complicated?" The question is unfair, sooner or later they had to tackle the topic, but Lauren is too afraid of possible consequences that could ruin the suspense they're currently in. Up until now they've just been dancing around each other. It's still open, and as much as Lauren wants it to tip to one side, she's more afraid it'll tilt to the other and she'll lose even this heated anticipation they share.

"I'm sorry."

"It's just… God, I don't know how to react."

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"Bo, there's no place I'd rather be right now," Lauren counters without missing a beat or controlling herself.

Bo gives her a long look, a smug smile appearing on her lips. Her finger starts trailing the rim of her coffee cup. But she doesn't push too much. "At the moment I have absolutely no idea about what this 'we' is, but I'm sure we can figure it out."

Lauren sighs. She can't make head or tails of her own thoughts, not to mention feelings. "Bo, honestly, do you think I haven't heard the rumours?"

"Wait, what?"

"There are some pretty bad ones going around."

"About me?" Bo says incredulously. Her eyes grow wide. She knows of them of course, but it disturbs her that this might be Lauren's main concern. So she adds with utter disbelief "Do you seriously think that I'm just playing with you?"

"No," Lauren shakes her head in irritation, although that thought has crossed her mind before, "that's absolutely not what I meant."

"Good, because I am not," Bo states firmly. She waits until Lauren meets her gaze again and adds with intensity "I'd never do something like that to you."

"What I'm saying is that if we, and this is completely hypothetical of course," Lauren waves her hand helplessly through the air, pointing at Bo and her, before she settles for "_do something_, it could cost your job."

For a moment Bo contemplates leaning over the table until Lauren can feel Bo's breath on her skin, and murmur "If we get caught," but the look in the blonde's eyes tells her it's probably for the best to do otherwise.

So she says meekly "And it would make your chances for finding a place to make your doctorate infinitely worse." Suddenly, a subtle note of misery appears in her voice and behaviour. She gets Lauren's unease with their situation. Just because there is attraction on her part, she shouldn't have acted on it. It's not fair towards Lauren. "I know."

That doubles the effort the blonde has to put into this conversation. Bo has genuinely thought about it. This is not just some flight of fancy, spurred by the moment. Bo has seriously considered the possibility of – what? An affair?

Lauren has trouble keeping her thoughts in place.

To be exact, she finds it excruciatingly hard to think objectively about the situation she's in with this incredibly wonderful, confident, and on top of that agonizingly gorgeous woman she has the privilege to be taught by. Since day one her eyes have been glued to her lips during lectures, not entirely due to Bo's marvellous teaching skills. And each passing day it's getting worse instead of easier, no matter how hard she tries to put Bo at the back of her mind. It's building up in her. Since the tutorials started, reminding herself that Bo is her prof has lost the effect it used to have.

She can't pin it down when it started to change. When being satisfied with a relatively normal student teacher relationship stopped. Maybe she never was.

The only thing she's sure about is the fact that her feelings are one giant mess, and definitely conflicting with the scrap of common sense she has left. And that she wants Bo so badly it's hard not kiss her here and now.

But they can't. Lauren can't.

Either way, she's sitting here with Bo now and the possibility of ever changing whatever it is they have slips through her fingers like sand through an hourglass. By every passing second she keeps her mouth shut Bo drifts further away and out of her reach. She can already see how the way she looks at her changes, how Bo is erecting walls around herself, and how they shut the blonde out. Lauren could slap herself for how she's ruining everything.

It's driving Lauren mad.

"Okay," Bo says, "I see your point."

"Really? Because I don't seem to be able to make sense of my own thoughts anymore."

"I'm willing to try this," Bo continues. "I'll treat you as any other, well, any other way-above-average student. I won't let my, uhm," Bo searches for a moment for the right word, "fondness get in the way."

"Bo, please, I didn't mean to…" Lauren's voice fades away.

"No, you're right. I shouldn't have said that," Bo mutters, sitting back. She sighs. "I think we should spend some time apart."

Lauren stiffens. _Shit._

"To collect our thoughts. Get a clear head again," Bo clarifies. She should feel sorry for what she said. She should feel sorry for approaching her student in such an inappropriate way. But she doesn't. Bo told Lauren the truth, and she's not going to apologize for that. And what's more, she saw in the way Lauren looked at her that she didn't scare her off. There is something else bothering the blonde. Pulling back now is the only way of finding out whether Bo is just acting on an unusual, irresponsible crush, and more importantly, what Lauren really thinks.

If there's one thing Bo is sorry about, it's the fact that she talked this early to Lauren instead of giving their relationship more time to develop.

Lauren bites her lip. "Do you want to stop tutoring me?"

"No!" Bo says quickly. "But for the moment it might be for the best to wait until the Christmas break is over."

Suddenly Lauren's throat feels parched. She tries to clear it, in vain. "Thank you for being honest with me," she murmurs.

"Always," Bo answers.

Lauren gives her a long, sad look, before she stands up again. A strand of her hair falls in her forehead while she pulls her purse out of her pocket, and starts searching for enough change for the coffee.

For a second Bo is too distracted by the way the light hits her hair, but then realizes what Lauren is doing, and says hastily "No, please, I'll pay."

"Sure?"

"Absolutely. Take it as my apology for – you know what."

Lauren gives her a half-hearted smile. "There is really no need…"

"Please," Bo says simply, and then she mutters under her breath, attempting to lighten the mood somewhat "but don't think I'll let that happen too often."

Lauren smiles mildly. She tilts her head to the side, and plays along by saying almost lightly "There's no point in trying then?"

"Another time, another place."

Lauren gives her another lingering glance while she puts her purse away. Then she turns around. Bo watches her as she walks away, and keeps staring for a very long time at the door through which her student left.

Bo likes the hunt, she always has. Accomplishing challenging tasks is just her thing, and even more on a more personal, romantic level. She simply likes the feeling of finally holding someone in her arms she has been after for some time. It's a gratification. And she likes the look in their eyes when they see that it was worth to wait. That gives her more pleasure than any random thing for one night ever could. Still, she tries to avoid seeing people she slept with again.

The reasoning, psychology professor part in her knows that the attachment problems are most likely due to her childhood and adolescence. She never had any big problems with that, though; simply not acknowledging it, not to mention coming to grips with it, has worked just fine. Apart from Dyson, of course, the one thing closest to real love she ever had. But carrying a few bruises from his own past, he was no saint either. The blazing train wreck of their relationship nearly pulled her into a hole she couldn't have crawled out on her own, but in the end she managed to get over it. Truth is, with a lot of one night stands without any strings attached. Which left her with the realization that it's far easier to draw a straight line between sex and any other kind of relationship she ever formed. They just don't go well together.

And then Lauren has strolled into her life, different from everyone else Bo has ever met. Turning her upside down. She is not someone she would want to leave while their still sleeping. She is not someone she would want to leave at all.

…

Lauren meets Crystal the next day. After she has spent hours buried in her books and more hours rolling around in her bed, mainly thinking about how nice it would be if you simply had to close your eyes for ten seconds in order to pass out. And remembering the biochemical and physiological reasons for why that's not the case. And listing involved and related neural phenomena. Anything to prevent her mind from returning to the way Bo looked. Or, more importantly, what she said.

It grew more and more difficult with every hour she lay awake.

Lauren screwed up again, and she knows it. She didn't want to push Bo away. Not at all. She just couldn't say what she really feels. At least, by now she's pretty sure about the fact that it's not anything comparable to a slight crush anymore.

In the darkness of her room in the middle of the night, her consciousness constantly on the border of sleeping but never quite tipping over, she did come up with a way she could try to exorcise Bo out of her system. She was tired to the bones, and her self-control wavering, which Lauren accepts as the only possible explanation for coming up with the idea. Whenever she closed her eyes, Bo hovered over her. Her soft lips mere inches away from Lauren's, her eyes dark as the night, her hair cascading down on the blonde, and her hands ghosting over Lauren's bare skin. Lauren remembers the exact way Bo's fingers wrapped around her elbow, wrist, or pressed against her lips before, and it's not hard to imagine what else they could do to her, leaving her body raw and sore in the process.

But Lauren did fall asleep eventually.

It wasn't a quiet night. She kicked out, threw herself around, sweated, and even shivered because her blanket fell away. And as if the universe had an especially picky day, the next morning she woke up because of her nightmare, which had come back to haunt her particularly badly.

So, when she meets Crystal, she's not in very high spirits.

The waitress is the usual ray of sunshine, though. Lauren comes by at the end of her shift, and they sit together in one of the booth in the back of the restaurant, sipping milkshakes. The finals are close, and both of them are happy about a study or work break.

After they've sat down, Lauren comes straight to the point. "Do you remember what I said that night at Pete's party on the phone?"

Crystal's eyebrows rise. "Why are you asking?"

Lauren hesitates before saying "I might have forgot something, or not noticed it at the time."

Sitting back slightly, Crystal doesn't look like she's believing what Lauren said. "Before or after you told her that you planned to leave a hickey on a very particular spot?"

"_What?" _

Crystal cracks up. Her laugh turns Lauren's horror into glaring. "Oh my god, you should see your face!"

"Jesus, Crystal!"

"Of course you didn't really say that. But nearly, I imagine."

"Very funny," Lauren bites, already fighting a losing battle to avoid to grin. Her friend's giggling is contagious, and relief that she didn't say something awful like that floods her whole body.

"But," Crystal states, "is it possible that you blacked out the whole episode and now you want me to tell you what happened?"

Lauren bites her lip. "Maybe?"

Although there is something else flickering across her expression as well, Crystal grins smugly. "Oh, the possibilities. I could tell you anything!"

"Come on."

"Give me a reason to tell you," Crystal drawls. She leans forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Who is she?"

Lauren rolls her eyes. "Just tell me what happened."

The waitress laughs. "Then at least pay my milkshake. That's fair enough for the beginning."

Lauren nods. "So you don't even know who I called?"

"To be honest, no. We're just sitting on the couch in the bedroom upstairs I think, and at some point you started rambling about," Crystal makes quotation marks in mid-air with her hands, "_that woman_. It sounded like you were talking about your ex."

"Seriously?"

"That's what I told you too," Crystal grins. "You wouldn't even say her name, though. You either complained or bragged about her because she's so freaking gorgeous, that wasn't quite clear, just that the two of you seem to have a very complicated relationship. Naturally, I started teasing you."

Lauren is already groaning internally. But at least it looks like she didn't accidentally gave Bo's name away. Or how complicated their relationship re_ally _is, since they are talking about her professor, of all people.

Crystal continues lightly. "So I said that you probably read too much into it. You grew defensive of course and wanted to prove to me that that was not the case. You pulled out the phone to prove me that you had her number."

"And let me guess, then I remembered I couldn't show you the number because then you'd see the name?"

"It was quite funny to see you struggle with that, really," the waitress giggles. "So I took the initiative and snatched the phone out of your hand."

"What?"

"Yeah, you were quite surprised by that but way too slow to stop me."

"Don't tell me you called her."

"Well," Crystal bites her lip, "we started to struggle for the phone and I might have accidentally hit a wrong button?"

"Oh my god."

"I think both of us didn't notice that the phone was calling her until she was angrily yelling your name."

This time Lauren groans loudly. She buries her head in her hands. "What kind of conversation did she hear?"

"There wasn't much talking. You tried to grab the phone, and when I held it out of your reach you started to tickle me. So there was probably a lot of shrieking and laughing…"

Lauren doesn't even bother to look up. "And?"

"I might have accused you of trying to do me on the couch."

"Oh god… Anything else?"

"Uhm," Crystal has to fight not to laugh out loud. "And I may have called you princess in a not so innocent way?"

Lauren groans again. In horror she realizes what the call must have sound like to Bo: Lauren having fun with another girl who likes going through other people's phone numbers. And then she really dialled her number. "What happened next?"

"I hung up, of course. You were quite shocked, though. The evening was definitely over."

Lauren's head falls on her folded arms, her friend chuckling to herself in the background.

She avoids Bo completely in the next three days.

…

But then the finals hit, and Lauren is freaking out already before they really begin. The main reason Bo agreed to the session was the desperation in her eyes when they met on the hallway and Lauren asked about a last one before the examinations. She really doesn't need to prepare for them, though. They're not talking about anything related to the finals. Lauren just needs to take her mind off for an hour or two.

And Bo knows that their meetings calm her down. Knowing that her presence has such an effect on the blonde pleases her immensely. So, against better reason and the intention to put some distance between them, Bo agreed.

She doesn't regret it, if she's honest. The glow of the early fall afternoon sun turns everything into gold, especially Lauren when she steps through the door of Bo's office. She walks up to her desk, carrying a bag heavy with textbooks and two coffee cups. Bo is a little startled by her first words, though.

"Uhm, as much as I'd love to forget the whole incident, but I've talked to Crystal about the phone call."

Bo knows immediately what she's talking about. She arches her eyebrow. "Oh, that's her name? Crystal?"

Lauren grimaces. "Yes. I wanted to apologize again." She waves the coffees she's picked up at a coffee shop nearby, and Bo laughs.

"I've changed my mind. I wouldn't mind if that developed into a habit."

Lauren puts one on the desk, and takes a seat in one of the armchairs, pulling a textbook out of her bag. "Calling you in the middle of the night?"

"Caffeinated apologies," Bo says. "But about the call: in any other circumstances I would have found it quite entertaining to be honest. But it was three am and I didn't know whether you were just being murdered."

Lauren bites her lip.

"The best part, though, was what you said at the end before . After I realized that you were not, in fact, in any danger."

Lauren looks at her hands. Crystal didn't mention that part. "And that was?"

"You told you're friend that it was none of her business who you're thinking about at night."

Lauren blushes, fighting the attempt to groan in embarrassment.

Bo clears her throat, and says without actually looking at her student "But back to work." She points at the open textbook in the blonde's lap. "Did you find an example of what we've talked about last time?"

Lauren nods, and returns her gaze to her notes scribbled in the margin. They spend some time talking about the problem, and Lauren feels the tension ease out of her shoulders. She still has some time left to study and revise until the finals, but she feels like they are already closing up on her. Hearing Bo's voice makes it easier.

Until she sees how her prof stands up and walks around her desk. Bo takes a seat on the couch opposite of her, on arm draped over the back. With an elegant ease she crosses her legs, the tip of her foot pointing at Lauren. She's wearing one of her black business-like suits with the high-waisted slacks, which she smoothes now with her flat hand. She tilts her head to the side and her hair tumbles down over her shoulder.

"I—I don't…" Lauren sighs. She shakes her head and screws up her eyes.

"What?" Bo asks, suddenly confused. She props her elbow on the backrest and puts two fingers against her temple, her thumb against her cheek, her whole posture an intense epitome of concentration on Lauren.

She's trying to do her best, to be on her best behaviour. She wants Lauren to feel as comfortable and normal and hopefully not awkward in her presence as possible, and because of that she's keen on reading every little bit of Lauren's body language that could give Bo a clue about what she thinks.

With a loud thump Lauren closes the book and puts it away again. She stands up, takes two long strides to the window, looks out and recites the complete paragraph they've been trying to make sense of, plus implications and further theories.

Bo can't say anything else but "Wow."

Lauren turns back around, smiling. "I'm sorry. I just can't when… If –" she breaks off again, lost for words. She runs her hand through her hair, looking away from her prof again.

Bo bends slightly forward. Her focus on Lauren doesn't waver. Instead, she puts her elbows on her knees und rests her chin on her folded hands, studying Lauren with dark eyes from across the room. "Spit it out," she murmurs.

Lauren closes her eyes, and says, in one breath, rushing, "I can't remember anything when I'm sitting that close to you, I can't think, I can't _breathe_."

"Oh," Bo replies simply, after some time. Her mind goes blank at the statement. She has so much trouble with the same problem at times that she hasn't noticed how Lauren developed it as well. Bo frowns involuntarily and rubs her temples, her gaze on the blonde's lithe frame while Lauren isn't looking at her. She's standing in front of the window, and it looks like she's radiating the warm sunlight herself.

Then Bo shuts her eyes, knowing where this will go. "This isn't working, Lauren."

"I know," Lauren frowns, blinking. They've just talked for forty minutes and hit another dead end.

"We need another solution."

"I know," Lauren says again.

"Any proposals?"

Their eyes lock, and neither of them can look away again. There is a bristling electricity building up in the air. Both women can feel it under their skin. Even though Lauren is still standing with her back in the sun, the prickling heat seems to come from Bo, or rather her dark eyes that roam Lauren's from the shadowy part of the room.

They nearly jump when they hear a knock on the door.

Without further warning, it flies open. Involuntarily, Bo leans back, and Lauren hurries back to her former seat, while Tamsin strolls into the room, breaking the spell. Lauren's eyebrows rise when she sees her.

"Please, don't be shy and do come in," Bo drawls, "how can I help you?"

The agent waves a file through the air, smirking. "Real work." Her eyes flicker from the two by now empty coffee cups to Lauren, travelling her up and down. "Unless I'm interrupting something."

"No, no it's fine, I was going to leave anyways," Lauren mutters without returning the gaze, rapidly scrambling up her books and notes to clutch them to her chest. She offers a small smile, and heads for the door, circumventing the agent by quite a long distance. She throws a look at Bo, though.

Bo sees it. She nearly rises her hand to stop her, but with a sigh it drops to her side again, and she watches how Lauren hurries out of the office. Addressing the blonde's back, Bo mumbles a quiet "See you later, Lauren."

Tamsin gives her a long look, before getting to the point of her unexpected visit. It's a completely new case.

…

After they're finished talking about that, Bo again behind her desk and Tamsin lounging in one of the chairs in front of it, she stays for a little while longer. "My friend, I hate to break it to you, but you're in very deep shit," she announces finally.

"What?" Bo looks up. "What did I do now?"

Tamsin smirks and lifts an eyebrow. "And blind as well?"

"Maybe just to your idiocies," Bo shoots back. "What is it?"

"I thought you were the psychologist. You should know best what you're doing wrong right now."

Bo frowns. "What are you talking about?"

"Lauren." Tamsin states simply. Bo winces, but Tamsin carries on, "what is she about?"

"Nothing, honestly."

"Seriously?" Tamsin exclaims. "Didn't you see how the poor girl looked at you?"

Bo's outstretched hand, about to reach for a file on her desk, freezes in mid-air.

Tamsin's intense green eyes lock with hers. "And what frightens me most is the way you looked at her."

Her friend doesn't reply for a long time. Then she asks, her voice rasp, "What do you mean?"

Tamsin sighs. "Bo, I'm trying to warn you. She's totally into you, don't you see?"

Bo throws her hands up. "For the record, no I do not see that she's 'totally into me'. But more importantly, why are you so interested in this?"

"I'm just stating the obvious, no need to get defensive."

"No need to say anything at all if it's so obvious."

Tamsin rolls her eyes. "Bo, you're not good at relationships. And she could ruin you only out of hurt feelings, if you do anything serious with her."

"That is the last thing on my mind."

"We both know you," Tamsin says, her tone concerned. "You're not good at self-control. In all friendship, keep your fingers away from her. Screw Dyson if you want to get work and private life tangled up, but don't ruin your work here because of a pretty blonde."

"Tamsin, that's not what this is about."

"I am serious. I don't care about a single one of the hearts you've broken, but I care about you."

Bo almost smiles. "If you weren't such a bitch sometimes I'd actually say it back."

"That you like me?" Tamsin scoffs, dropping the seriousness again. "Oh, don't get a false impression, I just don't want to go through all this BAU mess with someone else again because the former consultant got fired."

"Well, thank you for your concern nonetheless. But rest assured, everything's under control," Bo replies nonchalantly. She doesn't look at Tamsin, though.

…

It's madness. This is feverish, heart-wrenching, mind-blowing, madness, no, worse, sheer stupidity. Because Lauren _knows_ that she's overstepping her own line right now.

But if Bo can pull off stuff like telling Lauren outright that she'd have shagged her in a storage closet and look at her like she's planning to try it again, then Lauren gets to do some reckless things as well. She doesn't really know what sets her off. Maybe it was the vain attempt to take a nap at home that ended in her waking up shivering and covered in sweat after fifteen minutes.

But no matter what the reason really is, an hour after she escaped from Bo and Tamsin she's back.

The first thing that tells Bo that something is wrong is that Lauren storms into her office without knocking. It's more than unusual, and sends all sorts of alarm bells shrilling. Her mind goes completely blank, though, when she sees the way the blonde slams the door shut, casts her bag aside, and looks at her.

Suddenly Bo's mouth is very dry.

Their eyes remained locked as Lauren struts up to her. A small wrinkle appears on Bo's forehead. She almost says "What are you doing?", but Lauren is faster.

With long, willing strides she crosses the room in between them. In two heartbeats she's at the desk. Bo eyebrows raise even higher when the blonde doesn't stop behind it, but walks around it. And Bo's open pen flies out of her hand, her chair spins around, when Lauren bends down to her and presses her lips against Bo's.

For a second Bo is too overwhelmed to process the events. Then she takes a breath, and actually feels Lauren's mouth on hers. She can smell her faint perfume, sense the heat radiating from her lips.

It's a knee-jerk reaction. The one second she has her hands half raised as if in defence, the next Bo surges upwards, tangling her fingers in Lauren's hair to pull her down. There is no thinking involved at all. She glides forward on her chair, closer to Lauren. The blonde is still standing over Bo. Involuntarily, Lauren has to make another step forward to prevent herself from falling completely into Bo. Lauren's knee ends up high between Bo's thighs, completely wrinkling the slacks by pressing against them.

Then their mouths finally open. Bo's tongue darts out against Lauren's upper lip, a little hesitatingly. Her brain finally catching up with her, she pauses, the fraction of an inch away from Lauren as if she was testing whether she's just dreaming. But in response, the blonde nearly falls into her.

The until now dammed-up hunger flooding Bo drowns every concern that might be bubbling up in her consciousness. Lauren puts on hand against the backrest of the chair to support herself, while the other finds the shell of Bo's ear, and finally ends up buried in Bo's hair. She's thought about this often, but her imagination never came as much as in the same order of magnitude to what she's feeling right now. She's still standing, but if she moved just a little more she'd be on the chair. It's already like she's kneeling over Bo, her hair cascading down on her.

Their kiss is all lips and tongue, both of them too afraid to use their teeth just yet. Nonetheless, it is nothing near to innocent. The way Bo takes Lauren's lips between hers, sliding her tongue across them, evokes a moan more than once, and when Lauren sucks at her bottom lip for the first time Bo can't help but let a hoarse gasp escape her mouth. She's gripping the blonde gently, but that one move of Lauren's tongue is enough to make Bo wish she'd drag her nails over her back. They're both breathless by the time they break the kiss.

"Jesus, Lauren," Bo whispers huskily, her finger trailing Lauren's jawline, "what took you so long?"

Her eyes still closed, Lauren hums in response. She rests her forehead against Bo's, enjoying the feeling of her breath against her skin. Her lips hover over Bo's. She's savouring the moment. Bo's finger wanders to her lip, brushing it lightly. She can't take her eyes away from the way it quivers under her touch. Then Lauren closes the distance again between their mouths again.

She kisses Bo, presses her whole body against her this time, desperate for her touch and warmth and just Bo, when her expression gets painful. Her mouth, still half open, doesn't close again, in fear of losing Bo's taste on her lips. But she's the one to withdraw. She presses her nose against Bo's cheek, panting. For too many heartbeats she just stays there, while the pain and all other entangled feelings overwhelm her.

She rests her forehead against Bo's again. Bo allows her hands to leave Lauren's cheeks, instead she wraps them around her waist and back, holding her close.

But it's too much. Lauren can't bear it. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I just can't, I can't –"

She pulls away, takes a few steps backwards, her eyes full of regret.

For a moment Bo is too stunned by what just happened to react. Her fingers flitter up to her mouth, tracing her lips where Lauren just sucked like she was the last piece of fruit on earth. Then she jumps up. "Lauren, wait!"

The blonde hurries through the room, but Bo is close on her heels, determined to not let her run away again.

But for the second time this day they're interrupted by a harsh knock on the door.

Her hand outstretched towards the doorknob, Lauren freezes. Then her head snaps around. Wide-eyed she stares at Bo, looking for help. Her hair is dishevelled, a little of the red lipstick Bo wears smeared on her mouth, and Bo, absolutely mesmerized, can't stop thinking about how she put it there, and imagines in a slip of self-control how lipstick smeared on other body parts of Lauren would look like, specifically, on the inside of her thighs. Bo would be happy if she could just stand here and stare at her like this for the rest of her life.

Then the doorknob turns and the door opens.

Unlike Bo, though, Lauren has a scrap of rationality left. Knowing that she in her current state would be very hard to explain – she can feel her lips already swelling slightly – she moves in a sudden boost of resourcefulness a second faster than the door and slides on the side to which it doesn't open. It's not a brilliant hideout, behind the open door, but the best she can manage in her current state of mind.

And before it can turn any wider Bo's there. She stops it from opening further with her foot and rests her inner shoulder against it. Only then she looks up, and stares right into Hale's surprised face.

A particular four letter word is very close to escaping her lips, but she can restrain herself in the last second from cursing right into her boss's face.

As if in a casual gesture, she lays her hand on the doorknob that is normally on the inside of her room and hidden from Hale's view at the moment. At least she's effectively preventing him from entering her office and seeing Lauren. The two of them – her boss and her student – are standing less than three feet away from each other, but Hale is completely oblivious to the blonde's presence.

"How can I help you?" Bo asks, still a little breathless. Her free hand ruffles through her hair, trying to make its dishevelled state look as intended as possible.

Hale stops short upon seeing Bo so close to the door. His eyebrows shoot upwards. "Are you just leaving?"

"No, I'm looking for a book," Bo says slowly. She smirks at him and stretches her hand out in what must seem to Hale like reaching for the bookshelf.

But her fingers don't close around a book spine.

Instead, without looking at her, the back of Bo's hand trails the outline of Lauren's cheek. With worry she notices how her student seems to shake underneath her fingers. Gently, Bo cups her face, protectively trying to calm her down. Bo's thumb trails her cheek again and again. It's incredibly soft. She never noticed that while she was occupied by her lips.

This is also why she doesn't get Hale's next words. Lauren's cheek against her palm – and then the blonde leans in and Bo can feel the curve of her lips moving gently against her own fingers. Her breath tickles Bo's skin. Lauren is close to pressing kisses against her hand while Bo pretends to be talking to Hale.

Rudely, she interrupts her boss. "Actually, it's really bad right now. Can we talk about this at some other point?"

"Bo," Hale warns, nostrils already flaring, "this meeting starts in two minutes and it is extremely important that you are there. You're not going to skip this."

Bo has no idea that there was a meeting in the first place. That doesn't matter now, though. "Then see you in two minutes."

"I'll walk with you."

"Two minutes," Bo forces through clenched teeth, whether because of anger at Hale's patronizing tone or overwhelming temptation to turn around and kiss Lauren again.

Glaring, Hale nods and shoves his hands into the pockets of his suit. "If you're late you can do the whole of this month's budget paperwork."

Bo nods curtly. She'd run the department for a year if that meant he'd go. She'll go to the damn meeting, she just needs these two minutes with Lauren.

With a last look of anger mixed with curiosity, Hale turns on his heels, and finally leaves again.

Bo shuts the door. Her eyes remain focused on it for another two seconds, unwilling to break whatever there is between her and Lauren by looking at her. But in the end her head does turn around. And relief floods her as she sees that Lauren hasn't been shaking because of fear or panic or anything like that, but because of laughter.

Her lips are curved upwards in the most exhilarating toothy grin Bo has ever seen. Gently, she withdraws her hand from Lauren's cheek, and grants herself the pleasure of just looking at her. They share a moment of ridiculously exhilarated joy.

"This was so close," Lauren breathes. "If I hadn't…" But then her voice trails off, her face suddenly darkened, reminiscent of why she withdrew from Bo.

Bo notices the sudden change in her mood instantaneously. She bites her lip. "Lauren, tell me what you want about the taboo of student-teacher relationships and their consequences, I won't buy it. You're pulling away from me because something else is bothering you, aren't you?"

Lauren nods, unwilling to look at her.

Bo gulps. "Don't move," she breathes. Quickly, she walks through the room towards her desk, picks up her open pen plus a little notepad, and returns to the blonde.

"Lauren, this might be the single most irresponsible thing I've ever done and will ever do. But if I were to give you my address, would you come to my place tonight?"

Lauren gaze flickers away, down to Bo's lips, then her own hands, then the door, everywhere but Bo's eyes.

The next second, though, she is captivated by how Bo licks her finger before she tears a piece of paper off the notepad. Bo scribbles something on it and slips it into Lauren's hand, closing her fingers around it with her own. She senses how Lauren is drifting away from here, but this time Bo is determined to not let it happen again. She's never felt so strongly about anything in her life before.

That's why Bo stakes everything on one card. "Come," she purrs, looking at Lauren through dark lashes, "Come whenever you want to see me, and we can talk." Then, while the blonde stares at her doubtfully, Bo raises their intertwined hands to her mouth and lays her lips gently on Lauren's knuckles. "Please."

####

AN pt. 2: So, someone asked me whether I write somewhere else as well. Thank you so much for that btw! If you want to you can follow me on tumblr (icarising) where I sometimes post drabbles (and you can kick me in the ass via the askbox if my update takes too long – seriously, I encourage you to ;) ).


End file.
